Welcome to Pender Island – please leave the city behind.

When we drove off the ferry at Otter Bay a couple of days ago, these words in the Welcome to Pender Island brochure felt a bit cliched.  Now, I think we’re finally starting to understand.  Leave behind the hustle, bustle and rush – and more importantly, don’t rely on Google or influencer reviews to plan your day.

Our evolution has gone something like this:

Day one.  Plan a whistlestop tour of the top ten spots, as gleaned from the visitor’s guide we picked up from the rack on the ferry – all checked and verified by at least three online travel reviews.  Program the first stop into Apple maps.  “Oh, look.  It’s only three minutes away.  Then it will be eight minutes to the next place, and five minutes to the third …”  We calculate, allowing ten to twelve minutes at each spot, we’ll be back at our lodgings by 4:15. “That should allow half an hour for archery, then twenty minutes to chill before we head out again to get supplies for dinner.”   

What actually happened:  We spend hours meandering back and forth across the island, discovering pretty little bays and coves, breathing in the clean air where forest meets ocean, and scanning unsuccessfully for passing orcas.  The general store closed at 5:00, so dinner at the Poet’s Cove bistro.  Finally reach the BnB as the sun sets around 9:00. No worries, the rest of the top ten spots list can wait until tomorrow.

Day two. We sit on the balcony for most of the morning drinking coffee, and watching the deer that wander out of the forest to nibble on the bushes below. Ok, time to head to nearby Hope Bay.  

When we arrive, we bump into Jack, the kayak tour guide, and his dog Kevin. Like all the locals we’ve met, Jack is happy to stop his work and chat about things we might like to see. Kevin, meanwhile, is eagerly searching for a stick.

“Well,” Jack says, “Pirate Bay is worth a look, and you might spot some orcas up around Thieves’ Bay, but the best thing is to come right back here tonight to see the bioluminescence.”  We chat for a while, then it’s back in the car to look for orcas. 

Our navigator, Kirsty, checks the map and announces “if we take Pirates Road from Starvation Bay, we can follow Schooner Road past Boat Nook all the way to Thieves’ Bay. It takes about eleven minutes.”

Fast forward about eight hours.  It’s pitch dark and we’re cautiously picking our way down the uneven path to the kayak launching spot at Hope Bay, aided by an assortment of flashlight apps. 

Kirsty tentatively swishes her foot in the icy cold water. Wow! Bright green trails flash into existence with the movement, only to disappear again like magic. We unsuccessfully try to capture the phenomenon with our phone cameras, then realise that some things just need to be experienced in the here and now.

We look at each other, or at least look towards the spot in the dark night where we think the ‘other’ might be standing and say “you don’t see this in the city!”

Jack could tell we’re not kayakers – so he suggested we come back here tonight to see the bioluminescence