Ucluelet, Where a Surfing Photograph Sent Me Back to My First Summer in Canada
When I lived in Vancouver circa 2021/2022, I went back to Vancouver Island with friends to show them this little gem of British Columbia: the Pacific Rim Trail and the famous village of Tofino. We camped in Ucluelet as accommodations in this area tend to be limited and way out of our budget, and drove between the two coastal towns over the weekend.
One night, as we were entering a restaurant in Ucluelet, I was drawn to a photograph framed on the wall. It was a man surfing waves that made the region famous. I couldn’t get my mind off it, fixated on it as my brain tried to process why this photograph was nagging at me.
And then I remembered, and this pulled me right back to the summer of 2018, when I first visited the region.
When I immigrated to Canada in 2018, my dad came along on the month-long trip from the Yukon to Toronto, where I was planning on living. The travel guide I had bought strongly recommended visiting Tofino and described it as a marvellous, paradisiacal place on earth.
After spending a few weeks in the great North, Vancouver and Victoria, the Clayoquot Sound area was a welcome seaside break.
We stayed in a hostel in Ucluelet, for the same reasons as in 2022; this month-long cross-country budget was not meant for fancy lodges with ocean views. The place was off the main road and tucked away in the wild. It was a big family home whose rooms were converted into individual bedrooms and dorms. There was also a communal kitchen in the basement and access to the backyard. Following the path led you straight to the marsh, where I would sit on a rock and write my daily travel story on my laptop.
During this trip, I kept a travel diary, noting everything that happened that day, the wildlife I saw, the new experiences I had, and the beauty of each region I discovered. I knew this whole trip across the country needed to be recorded and documented in a way I would want to read later on.
By this point in the trip, the weather had warmed up again. It was a new sensation to feel the sun on my skin. I was enjoying the experience so much that I got more distracted by the surroundings and could hardly focus on writing my travel journal.
My dad and I, avid hikers, walked around the village; we left the hostel on foot and took the longest detour we could. On the main road, some signs were painted, suggesting that a marathon would take place in the area soon. I thought it would be an amazing place to run, but not in that heat.
We walked the Pacific Rim Trail along the coast, and we were stunned by this incredible landscape of pine trees and logs that were being driven against the base of the cliff by the force of the waves.
I was wondering why there were so many logs everywhere along the coast. My dad, knowledgeable about the matter, explained how this region was historically linked to the timber and logging industry and how logs were transported from one place to another, which helped explain why so many washed up on the shores of Vancouver Island.
On this hike, we would spot these incredible lodges perched between the forest and the cliffs, the ones our budget prevented us from reaching. It must be nice to stay in these places; you’ll barely need to leave to experience the coast.
Watching the horizon, I was reminded that the closest land would be Japan. It wasn’t a crazy thought: a year prior, my family and I took a trip to Japan, and on the shore of their eastern coast, I would look ahead on the horizon, knowing Canada was on the other side, my plan in life to go visit, and my visa application was in motion at the time.
Here I was now, standing on the western shores of Canada, with a visa in my passport, a full trip plan and a new start in life. I had come full circle.
Walking the quiet streets of Ucluelet was a new experience for us, especially spotting deer grazing in people’s backyards. They would stare at us briefly and then back to the grass, in the absolute nonchalance imaginable. We were both amused and stunned!
Back at the hostel, we met the other guests, including a German traveller who had locked her luggage without checking the code. She eventually cracked it with the emergency number, to everyone’s relief. That evening, we also met a young man from France, to the great joy of my dad, who could finally chat away in his language.
The day after, my dad and I drove to Tofino for an ocean adventure, whale watching and other local wildlife. Having grown up by the sea, I was familiar with how the weather and clouds can change with the tides. I wasn’t very surprised to leave sunny Tofino and head straight into the cloudy, light grey sky as we headed towards the ocean.
We wore a heavy, warm life vest/jumpsuit, which was ideal for the trip into the ocean, where we saw whales and porpoises, as well as sea lions and, to my surprise, sea otters!
They were so small and unexpected, it took me a while to finally spot them among the seaweed. But what a sight, a mama otter floating on her back with her baby on her tummy, busy doing mama otter things.
When it was time to go back to the surf town, the cold, dense clouds were setting a mysterious mood. It was now cold, and I couldn’t really enjoy strolling around like this. I resorted to buying a sweatshirt from a local shop to warm me up. I knew this would weigh down my backpack for the rest of the trip, but I was feeling better, and the visit could resume.
We eventually visited the surfing beaches, and it was a spectacular sight, as described by the travel guide I used to plan this trip. Even from the parking lot, seeing those minivans and surfboards on the roof gave off an absolute hippie-surftown vibe you wouldn’t expect in Canada, full of clichés I was still holding on to, 2 weeks into the country.
Back at the hostel after this great day, I hung out in the common room where I met the French traveller my dad had befriended the night before and had told me everything about all day. Franck told me what brought him there, his photography work and passion for surfing, and how he combined the two, which he shared on social media for visibility.
After our time in Ucluelet, I started following his work online and, over the years, found out he eventually moved back to France and moved on to other things, setting his surfing photography aside. And so it slipped my mind until that night in 2021, when I entered the restaurant and saw one of these surfing pictures.
It was Franck’s, and just like that, I was sent back to memories of my first few weeks in the country, and the excitement felt at the time came flooding back.
Just like Franck, after this trip, I went on to live another life, settling down in Toronto until the pandemic hit and I decided to spend a year in Vancouver, but that’s a story for another time.