After my last book took 1,254 days from start date to publication date, I wanted to expedite my next book. By a lot. To do that, I knew I’d need at least one writing trip. Even in my slow season, a week was all I could manage; but I was able to add 16,000 words to the manuscript on my first week off work since last July. While my wife was on a work trip in Managua, I flew up to my favorite city in the world: Vancouver, BC. Here are some of the highlights.
I had booked this jump two years ago—two months before the pandemic. While Whistler Bungee is open in snow and cold, the single-digit temperatures that week made conditions at the bridge unsafe. I’ve wanted to return ever since. So, when the jumpmaster started counting down from 5, I jumped at 3. And it was everything about bungee jumping that I remembered and that I’ve loved.
When I texted this picture to my rock climbing buddies, Jeremy said, “That’s joy. Pure, unadulterated J-O-Y.” You know what? Jeremy was right.
(Technically, this doesn’t constitute what rock jocks call a “whipper.” Haha.)
This was my first time ever jumping with this style of harness. All jumps turned into flops like this. So fun. This was my first snow bungee, but the sun and anticipation kept me warm.
For my second jump, I left off backward. I was more nervous about this launch, because I’m a klutz. The jumpmaster instructed me to hang all of my feet but the balls of my feet on the edge before jumping backward.
Knowing I was up for a more intense experience, the jumpmaster told me to look up at him the whole time during my initial plummet. That kept my eyes from seeing how much farther I had to fall.
If you’ve ever done an adventure with me, you knew this facial expression was only a matter of time. I get so amped up from adrenaline rushes. This one proved no exception.
I’m a mountains-and-wilderness guy. As a germaphobe who likes fresh air and open spaces, I don’t typically connect with cities. Not Vancouver. I keep returning here. In fact, this was my third writing trip here. My east coast internal time clock woke me long before the sun to give me hours to write while watching the sun warm the False Creek area of BC’s metropolis from the 36th floor of The Mark.
I’m a sucker for dawns and dusks back home. I’ve written a lot during sunrises and sunsets from mountains and other perches. It only made sense that words would flow as the sky aimed over Mt Baker. My first morning in British Columbia proved my last without (sometimes dense) fog. I’m so glad I fought through the grogginess of a short night’s sleep to write.
Thanks to multiple flight changes and COVID requirements, I ended up spending my last night in the Fairmont Vancouver Airport. Normally, that’d be a brag worthy sentence from a rich person in your life. But as I’ve learned during COVID and its rarer elective travel, travel deals abound. My only splurge there was dinner. The $26 burger was so big, my server told me I was only the eighth person he’d ever seen finish it. (He probably told me that to get a bigger tip.) Writing made me hungry, and I added thousands of words to my manuscript from this spot.
Sunday morning, I woke early and walked all the way from False Creek almost to Lions Gate Bridge in Stanley Park (about 4 miles). While my recently-rehabilitated knee complained, I was rewarded by moments and views like this.
No trip to Vancouver is complete without a visit to the Vancouver Harbour Flight Center. I got emotional standing here, soaking in this scene. I’ve made lots of cool memories in and on and next to those amphibious birds. As I listened to worship music, waves of gratitude washed over me. I’m alive for this! The greatest conquerors of ages past could never experience flight, let alone take off on water and land in alpine lakes. Magic wafted in this fog. While the lack of visibility kept these planes from flying, my heart was soaring.
If you’ve read my book, Scared to Life, this is the strip of concrete I mentioned at the start of chapter 21: “Widgeon Lake.” I listened to that chapter of my audiobook as I traversed that concrete out and then back. Tears filled my eyes, as I remembered the soul whispers of that chapter. Surrendering to something bigger than us, despite our fear, is often rewarded with serendipity and even sovereignty.
One of my favorite aspects of Vancouver is the fantastic architecture. This might be my favorite building in the city. It overlooks my beloved Granville Island Public Market from across the water. On this foggy night, it looked even more surreal. This is not an optical illusion. It really does get bigger as it gets taller.
In the waters too shallow for the passing tankers, the Girl in a Wetsuit gave off some Little Mermaid vibes. You can’t see them through the fog, but usually large, bright-yellow piles of phosphorus loom across the water from this spot.
On my flight from Raleigh to Toronto, our commuter jet flew over the counties where I spent the first few years of my life. And then we passed just east of Niagara Falls, pictured here. What seems so massive when standing next to it took some intentional searching to locate from our 50-seater.
I will always go to the window at an airport during sunrise or sunset. There’s something about the juxtaposition of the quiet slowness of earth’s daily rhythms and the bustle of airport life. I liked this shot because it looked like the sky opened up some skylights to extend the day just a few minutes more.
I don’t have strong feelings for or against the Toronto airport, but these are probably the coolest departure boards I’ve ever seen. They’re HUGE!
Not sure what all is in this Squamish hardware store, but I’m sure their marketing team has had a wild couple of years.
