Vancouver Island - Port Alberni-Lake Cowichan-Duncan

Thursday 12.7.

Before 9 o'clock I am already in the car and drive to the MacMillan State Park, where huge old trees stand. The oldest ones are around 800 years old, the tallest one is 76 meters high. The forest is beautiful and quiet, few visitors at this early hour!

MacMillan State Park

The forest reminds me of the countless other forests we saw on the coast of Oregon. After an hour of fresh forest air, I continue south.

Since it was not clear anywhere whether the road leading through the hills to Lake Cowichan is really paved or not, I decide to take the drive on Highway 19 and reach my destination before noon.

Lake Cowichan

It's a bit tricky to find a quiet place at Lake Cowichan, preferably with a toilet. Either the forest reaches the water and it is inaccessible, or it is private property. I drive to Halfmoon Bay and back and then find a public bathing area next to a campground. Unfortunately, the campgrounds here are also fenced off, so unlike in the USA, you can't just use the access point. My blue beach chair proves once again to be genius and I sit in the sun for about 2 hours and read. However, this bathing area is filling up with very loudly chatting mothers and their even louder screaming and crying toddlers, so I leave there at 2.30 pm.

Along the North Shore, I come to a place that has the funny name Youbou. Here the official road ends. If I had taken the path through the hills earlier, I would have come out here. However, the asphalt ends a few meters further and there is a sign here that there will be no signs or road maintenance for the next 100 km and I can already see the first big holes in the road 30 meters further. So the decision for Hwy 19 earlier was absolutely right. I wouldn't have been able to go any further with my car here. I find a public access point to a bathing area with a dock between houses in Youbou and once again unfold my blue chair in the shade of a giant pine tree.

At Lake Cowichan

The sun comes out again at 4 pm and I leave at 6 pm to go to Duncan, where I want to stay overnight. The 40 km drive is no problem. I drive on a road that also serves as a road for the omnipresent log trucks carrying tons of peeled long logs.

The wounds that have been inflicted on the forests on the slopes here are huge and environmental activists have plastered the road signs that officially warn of the log trucks with their own slogans.

It is paradoxical that there are even these warning signs here. These log trucks are usually traveling at a monkey-like speed, well above the allowed limit, which certainly cannot be the purpose of the warning signs.

I get lost briefly but then find the so-called “Rosedale Manor” at 7 pm. On Google Street View, the noble neighboring house is pictured, my "Manor" is the shabby shack next to it. The one-story house with wooden shingles and peeling paint on the balconies has four entrances. There is a list of apartments and their phone numbers at the so-called main entrance. Next to it is a telephone keypad with an intercom. But which apartment do I have? My online booking with booking.com doesn't say anything about it. There are two phone numbers for "furnished apartments", and for a quarter of an hour, I alternately enter the 12-digit phone number into the telephone keypad next to the list of apartments, without even the slightest reaction.

Rosedale Manor...

Fortunately, other people who live here come shortly afterwards and offer to let me into the house. Well, if worst comes to worst, I will sleep in the hallway. There's a coin telephone in the entrance of the building! The nice Canadian puts in two quarters and dials one of the numbers that were listed outside for the furnished apartments. So after a good 30 minutes of searching, I finally get in touch with the management, who says that I should have called 30 minutes in advance and that booking.com never informs anyone about it and they haven't received my email address from them either. Well then...

So now I wait another quarter of an hour until the cleaning lady comes with the key to the apartment and opens a large vacation rental for me. When paying with the credit card, she asks for 200 dollars, but I have a confirmation for 100$ and she now says that booking.com has booked me for 2 nights. Well, fortunately I have the printout of the booking confirmation with me, where the data and the price are clearly readable even for non-German speakers. So I now pay 100 dollars and she brings me a bottle of wine. We understand each other : - )

At 8 pm, I finally sit down for dinner around the corner at Boston Pizza and treat myself to a large beer. Good thing the way to the house is not far. I'm not really fit to drive anymore. The apartment has a mini-terrace where I sit until dark and thoroughly "test" the wine. I go to bed early.

Driving distance: 240 km