Going home: A different kind of adventure


Flying over our beautiful Coastal Mountains, I was proud.

I live here, I thought. What a fortunate place to be able to call home.

When I compare where I live now to where I came from, it has never even been a close competition. Then again – it’s not really even a fair fight. I have completely been won over by the PNW, but, I do have a place in my heart for my over-populated home province.


I love going home to see my family; to hug my niece & nephews, to catch up with my mom and dad and sister and brother. It’s often a whirlwind, and it’s often exhausting.

This trip was both of those things, but a little more special.

I was bringing home a boy that I love – the Tassie surfer babe.


He had never been there, and we both have heard my mighty homeland labeled as “Onterrible” (and labeled it as that ourselves).

This trip, something switched. It wasn’t close to terrible. Not even one bit.


Our itinerary filled up quickly – with things I did as a kid but had little appreciation for. We explored the urban oasis of the trendy Toronto neighbourhoods and hiked around the Bruce Peninsula along the rocky ridges that swept the clear blue lakeside.


We hung out with my family, took my dad’s paddle making workshop, watching him glow as he taught a room full of people how to hand craft a cherry wooden paddle. I laughed with my cousin, got to meet my brand new nephew, and had a completely different kind of emventure than I’m used to.

It was the adventure of going home.

The adventure of showing someone I love the beauty of the place I came from.


Every single village, town, city, and landscape have some unique and intriguing beauty weaved into them, you just have to find it, and be open to discovering it.

While where I came from has no ocean, or towering mountains – it has waterfalls, great lakes, lush land and most importantly, the people who I call my family.



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