From Bowen Island, in a quiet bed and breakfast with a balcony looking back towards the mainland, the city lights Vancouver keep the night sky polluted with an orage haze, and it looks like a sunset on smokey days back in Calgary, when forest fires in the mountains fogged the air for hundreds of miles. The bright light from the full moon mixes in with the urban glow, and in photos as the light smears across the digital sensor, it almost looks like a sunrise.

We spent two nights on the island, hiking past fish latters, walking through forests along paths where the signs explain the right of way: bikes yield to pedestrians, and both yield to horses. A guy in a horse wearing a dark smooth helmet passes us with his dog, and I nervously shallow my breathing because it doesn’t take much horse to get my allergies going, although I should know better than to think that would do much good. We tried fishing at Killarney Lake, our hooks getting caught in weeds and resting on lilly pads, the fish either avoiding the small pieces of herring on the ends of our lines or maybe there aren’t any fish to begin with. A visit to the local museum, which is mostly  about local gardening,which is difficult, the captions on the photos explain, because the island is mostly rock and lush gardens need soil. But that’s no big problem for the people of Bowen Island, with their million-dollar homes along the water and their yachts in Snug Cove and, of course, gardening budgets that include shipping in soil from more fertile ground. The Strawberry Tea and Bizaar at the local church, where old ladies in bright red hats sell tarts and jam. The Cocoa West Chocolatier, where I bought a chocolate ball covered in paprika.

Bowen Island is away from the city, a half-hour drive (or an hour in a half on Friday as a Critical Mass ride shut down the bridge) and then a 20-minute ferry ride, but close enough that you’re reminded you haven’t gone far. The radio stations from Vancouver still come through with reasonable clarity, the stream of traffic coming off the ferry from the mainland are city folk just like you, and many of the people either lived in Vancouver at some point or commute there for work every day. But it was far enough to feel removed, even for a couple of days, relaxing on an island surrounded by ocean water, walking along the beach, or through the forest, or to the taco stand by the ferry terminal waiting for a ride home.

I took some photos, which you can see here.

And I made a movie: