A Royal City

I leave my beloved cidery towards Victoria – royal city named after the famous queen, now BC’s capital and maybe promise for my future. On the way already ridden two weeks ago to visit the strait, the fog gets warmer and reveal the horizon. I can see Mount Baker in noon sun.
After a first stop at the University for a few questions, I visit Victoria Art Gallery and finally discover the local artist Emily Carr’s work. Neither her work nor other Canadians’ really moves me. Emily still catches a piece of my emotions when she draws the island’s huge trees, curved like the ones my camera catches, only way to fit them in both of our frames. My interest is still tempted by the politic pieces about 1977 discussions between the Prime Minister and some Native Yukon leaders. My eyes are still brought back in the past when I recognize a tiny version of Lake Bromont, sparkled with hope like in my memory*.

Refreshed by those bland artistic shades, I am ready to slowly get used to urban energies again. It feels so good, I can’t help it, I grew up in a city and I always feel the need to go back to that different way of life. I don’t miss it, I don’t feel like I am dying, but when I get lost in its busy streets, my heart happily pounds, my eyes glitters with traffics lights and I am shining with joy. I remember my long summer in Ireland, I wrote Dublin brought me back to life like no other place. I think I feel the same today, wildlife that I have observed during my journey brings me such a peaceful and sound feeling, only and cheerfully transcended by the city’s vibes. I therefore keep wandering in Black Friday crowded streets, following my heart and my eyes more than my map. Reaching the bay in order to see the sun disappeared toward Port Renfrew or Tofino, I intertwine Chinese alleys’ lanterns leading me to Chinatown where a sign apologizes for mistreatment towards Asian populations back in the days. I reached back Government Street, called by blushing Olympic downhill on the other side of the strait.
After my promenade, the night rises, very early, and the darkness blurs my timeline, I grab a beer with an empty stomach hurrying up my hungry sleep. I feel like it is 4 am, I am not even done with my pint that I feel like I have been drunk for centuries. I then surrender (like any good French!). I leave the warm bar to set my night at Willows Beach. I try to read, to foresee my future, but my eyes are blind and I uncomfortably fall sleep.

My morning, almost eleven hours later, blushed on the East side of the world. I can’t believe it, I can see the US. Not the Peninsula though, the one of the other side where Mount Baker shines like a shadow in those pink first hours. Freshly awaken by the blue reddish swell, I stop by Starbucks that, since my first trip on my own, strangely has become my traveling shelter even if I don’t like coffee. If I need a moment to linger in a place, I will always anonymously get lost in Starbucks. Today, I am here to update my cyber writing.

Then, the day rises, bringing life to my legs. The horizon is so clear, am I glancing at Hurricane Ridge among Angeles mounts? I wonder if you can see Vancouver Island as well from there or if only its high ranges reveal the Peninsula. The horizon is so clear, I follow the ocean’s shores, I sink into grey rocks, I wind with raft wood. I would almost feel hot despite the strong win in my hair. My walk ends at the Museum of Natural and Human History. There I learn the Bering corridor was a fleeting thing; for me it was there since the beginning of time and melted later on, when it actually froze during the Ice Age and melted at the end of the aforementioned era. There I am also told the Ice Age is a misleading name because the whole planet was not actually completely covered on ice. There I read about how the world will change its North like it has already happened several times in the past, last time was 78 or 780 thousands years ago, can’t remember! I knew our future entirely built thanks to Poles magnetism was jeopardized but I didn’t know it was a natural process that had already happened… I finally follow Humans’ steps, from First Nation to the Old European World’s arrival, here in Canada.
When the museum closes, the night is already blue, the moon shines like a jewel, you can guess where the sun has just disappeared and Victoria’s beginning Christmas parade is so quiet. No enthusiasm breaks the silence, like it had actually never started. I don’t feel like to stay, I withdraw in the dark Beacon Hill Park then, meet a few deer on the neighborhood front porches and go to plan my next explorations.
Those two days allowed me to slowly get prepared… I enjoyed the contrast of the perfect size city and the wildlife nearby, I have cherished my 180° look on the sea. I am now ready to leave my beloved isle.