Day 42: A Stranger Named Pete

It was time to check out of my romantic safari tent and hit the road. Sweat started to drip from the heat and humidity as I carried items up the steep incline to my car. I wasn’t exactly sure where I was headed next and didn’t have anything booked.

I was told I needed to see the Skookumchuck Narrows before I left the area. The Skookumchuck Narrows is a straight forming the entrance of Sechelt Inlet and people come from all over the world to see it. Twice a day, the tide changes and the flow of seawater switches, reversing the direction of the rapids.

After the quick 20-minute drive, I arrived at the entrance of the trail. The sign didn’t include much information, but it said no cars were allowed. I grabbed my purse, thinking this would be a quick hike. It was touristy and some people were wearing regular clothes, so I thought this couldn’t be much of a “hike”…famous last words.

After walking down the gravel road for 15 minutes, I came to another sign: the hike would be another 4 KM (2.5 miles)! I hadn’t eaten breakfast, was carrying my gigantic purse, and wasn’t in proper hiking attire, but I didn’t feel like walking back to my car.

Once leaving that sign, the trail became an actual hiking trail. I felt unprepared without my hiking shoes and backpack, and I hate sweating in normal clothes. If I’m prepared to hike and sweat, it doesn’t bother me at all. Unfortunately, this sort of ruined the hike for me because it was such a distraction.

I passed several people walking back to their car. Some were wearing workout clothes and others were in flip-flops. I heard people speaking in Chinese, Russian, French, and English.

As I was close to arriving at the Narrows, I saw a memorial adorned with flowers. “In memory of Pete Tipping who died on Friday, July 27, 2018 while hiking with his family on this trail.”

There was also a packet of papers inside a laminated file with information about Pete. I pulled out the papers and read through some it. It described Pete as a “Devoted husband, loving father, and a joyful soul with a smile for everyone and a joke for every occasion.” He was only 41 years old and a “towering personality, even beyond his 6’3” frame, whose genuine warmth and concern for others was an honest reminder of what the world can be and should be. He was smart but never pretentious; he was sarcastic but never mean spirited; chatty but always ready to listen; opinionated but always thoughtful.”

Pete was from Toledo, OH and had died one week before I was on the trail. I had no idea how he died. Was it from the trail? Did he trip and fall? Did he have a heart attack? It made me sad to think this guy was on vacation, probably having a great time. And just like that, he’s dead. Someone went to the effort to put a memorial there for him with his life story so I felt it deserved to be read.

It made me think about how short our lives are. When you go on vacation, you don’t expect to die. Something about dying when you’re supposed to be having such a good time made me sad. For your family members, it must feel like the rug was pulled from under their feet.

Shortly after my stop at the memorial, I arrived at the lower level of the narrows. Although I missed the time of day when the water is most active, there were little whirlpools forming all around. A boat was crossing, using all of its power to make it through the narrows.

I leaned against a rock and took in the sun, watching the whirlpools and thinking about Pete. Reading about Pete reminded me to treat each day as a precious gift. Even on days when I don’t feel good or feel happy, I still want to appreciate it.

The breeze dried off some of my sweat and I was getting hungry. When I got close to the entrance of the trail, there was a little café that was serving baked goods and some lunch-type food. I got a sandwich and sat outside cooling off and hydrating.

It would take about an hour and a half to get back to the ferry. I still didn’t know where I was going, but figured I should head back towards Vancouver.

I stopped for gas for the first time in Canada. The price was $1.55 – so cheap!  However, the gas pumped right passed 17 gallons. That was when I realized we were talking liters, not gallons. Sometimes I forgot I was in Canada, until something like the metric system reared its head.

I arrived at the ferry and lined my car up into a stall. I had about an hour wait until the next one arrived, so I searched for places to stay on Airbnb in Vancouver. It happened to be a holiday weekend for Canada so there weren’t many places available. Those left were extremely overpriced – around $180 for a 2-star motel.

I sent a request to book a room in an Airbnb and boarded the ferry while I waited for a response. The ferry ride was just as beautiful as before.

I was getting nervous about not having anywhere to stay when I suddenly found a room to rent on Airbnb for only $52 for the night and booked it. The room was on the east side of the city, so I didn’t arrive until 8:15 pm. I followed the instructions to open the small fence, walk down the sidewalk on the left side of the house, go up the stairs in the backyard, and find my room – number four.

As I climbed up the stairs in the back, a man in his 30s greeted me on the deck outside. He was a tenant and had been renting a room in the house for a long time. He asked me, “Are you here for room 4?” I replied, “Yes, I just booked it about an hour ago.”

The man explained that the owner had just built room four and I was the first guest. That explains why the room magically appeared online during my frantic search on Airbnb.

I walked through a shared kitchen and small living room to arrive at my room. It smelled brand new, so I opened the two small windows to let it air out. No windows screens yet again.

After bringing in my stuff, I drove down the street to Dairy Queen to eat dinner and finally tried the poutine (fries with cheese curds and gravy). It was ok – very heavy.

My Airbnb gave me access to a washer and a dryer, so I did some laundry. As I was getting ready for bed, I went into the kitchen, where two women in their pajamas stood. I quietly asked if I could get some water and one of them sternly whispered, “Shhh! Don’t wake the baby.” They had just put a crying baby to sleep. I headed to bed, hoping I wouldn’t be awakened by the baby in the middle of the night.

As I laid in bed, I thought about my adventure so far; the ups and downs, the friends I saw along the way, and the people I had met. Tomorrow I’d start heading towards the Alaska highway, which was my ultimate destination of this trip. Thinking about Pete and his short life, I was happy that I took the plunge to quit my job and experience all of this.

In December 2016, I had my first mammogram because my grandma died of breast cancer at age 42. They saw dense tissue in my left breast and told me I need to monitor it every six months to see if it grows because it could be breast cancer. That was a wakeup call for me. I had thought, “What if I only get 42 years on this planet like my grandma? Is this how I would want to spend my last few years?” The answer was no, which is what pushed me to follow my dreams. Sometimes we need reminders from people like my grandma and Pete to help us get out of a cycle and to see the big picture. If I only get 42 years, I’ll be happy with how I’ve spent the last few years.

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Post Edited By: Mandy Strider