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Seaside Dreams — Tofino, Long Beach Lodge and the Zen of staying still

"How inappropriate to call this planet Earth when it is quite clearly Ocean." - Arthur C. Clarke I'd just returned from a month-long epic in the Alps. Whistler's snow had just transitioned from winter pow to late spring schmoo.
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"How inappropriate to call this planet Earth when it is quite clearly Ocean."

- Arthur C. Clarke

I'd just returned from a month-long epic in the Alps. Whistler's snow had just transitioned from winter pow to late spring schmoo. And the pain I was subjecting myself to on the hill just wasn't worth it anymore. My body was trashed. The message was clear: time to hang up the boards for a while. Still, the end-of-the-season blues were hitting me hard. What to do? What to do? That's when I got a call from the mayor of Tofino.

"Hey Michel," said the always-ebullient Perry Schmunk, "Why don't you come out to the West Coast for a couple of days? The Lodge is celebrating its tenth anniversary, you know, and I thought you might appreciate a change of scenery..." He paused for a beat. "Besides," he said, "we're launching our new Surf Centre this week. I figured you'd probably want to check that out too."

Hmm. Enticing. A few nights on the coast, great dining, stimulating conversation, a surfing session or three... 'twas the perfect cure, I figured, for my end-of-season blues. Not to mention a great excuse to visit with Perry and family. Already I could see myself trotting out into the break with my board underarm...

As regular readers of Alta States may remember, Whistler Blackcomb's former ski school director is now the general manager of Tofino's award-winning Long Beach Lodge. Nestled in the northern crook of Cox Bay — with some of the country's best surf breaking right outside the front door — Schmunk's seaside hotel is a beach-lover's dream destination.

It's not like the place is hugely fancy or anything. With a nod to Cape Cod architecture but a cedar shingle façade to celebrate its B.C. location and a plethora of windows to maximize its coastal sights the hotel is more about ambiance than accessories. People more than stuff. And this is where Perry has taken a page straight out of the Schwartz brothers operating manual at Lake Louise's iconic Post Hotel. Only with a surf motif instead of a mountain theme…

But wait a minute. I was in no shape to surf. My back was so wonky I was having trouble walking without pain. I would be doing myself way more harm than good by throwing myself in the water at this time of the year. Could I accept Perry's invitation and not surf? Was I mature enough to overcome the sirens' song of the sea? And what would I do in Tofino if I didn't surf? Wouldn't I get bored silly?

Decisions. Decisions. But in the end, I took Perry up on his offer. Call me curious. Call me a masochist. Whatever. I was convinced there was a lot more to do in Tofino than surf waves. Besides, I love the seashore as much as I love the mountains. So damn the torpedoes. I was in. As for staying out of the water, well, we'd just have to see how disciplined I could be...

So that's how I found myself at Vancouver's south terminal in late April, waiting for my flight to the West Coast. It was a blustery day — stormy even — and I was more than just a little skeptical about the ride. Especially after the woman who checked me in casually mentioned that we might be landing in Port Alberni instead of Tofino. Say what? "It's a little rough on the coast," she explained. "And if the pilot decides he can't land there, then we just bus you out from the Port Alberni airport instead."

Duly warned. And I quickly boarded the tiny seven-seater. The flight across the Salish Sea and Vancouver Island took less than an hour. It seemed like I'd just buckled in when the pilot started his descent. Okay then. But where were we? There was absolutely nothing to see. The clouds were as thick as cotton batting.

The plane was barely a few hundred feet above sea level by the time the clouds thinned out enough to finally glimpse... well, not land. The ocean was alive with galloping whitecaps. The water was dark, angry — totally messed up. Spindrift floated on the surface like God's spit. Not an easy landing no matter how you pared it. I was sure our pilot would abort.

But he didn't. He came swinging over the thin strip of trees separating the runway from the beach with way too much heat — a sudden tail wind had grabbed the plane and had thrown it forward like a beach ball at a picnic. I watched the pilot's hands grip tighter around the wheel. His face was tense, but there didn't seem to be any panic there. The little plane waggled its wings helplessly in the crosswinds, dropped like a stone in a sudden downdraft, but the pilot calmly set it back on its course. Now. And he dropped the flaps for the landing. Still too much speed though. I was sure we were gonna bounce on touching ground. But I had underestimated the guy at the controls. Though we were still moving fast, his landing was as smooth as if he'd posed the plane on a sunny summer day in Richmond. This pilot was good.

And I told him so. He smiled wanly. "Thanks," he said, as he maneuvered the plane to the terminal. 'I've done this run hundreds of times," he admitted. "But this was definitely the toughest approach I've ever had to handle..." And then he laughed.

Welcome to Tofino. "How was your flight," Perry wanted to know. "Let's get a drink," I answered. My heart was still rock-and-rolling.

The Next Morning...

I woke up to the sound of pounding surf. And just a hint of a pounding headache. My first night at the Lodge had been a memorable one. Good drink and great conversation. I lay in bed and watched the waves break along the beach.

A lone surfer was braving the cold of an April dawn patrol. I watched him for a while too. He wasn't all that good, but what he lacked in style he more than made up for in persistence. The guy just wouldn't give up. Hit the break, paddle like mad, catch a wave, try to stand up, fall over and get tumbled around in the impact zone — that was his shtick. And he did it over and over and over again. By the end of the session, I was totally engaged. And all I was hoping for was that he'd get at least one good ride. He didn't. But it didn't seem to bother him in the least. I left him to his waves and headed downstairs to breakfast.

I admit it. Staying out of the water has been tough. Especially given the care and attention Perry and his team have given to the Lodge's new Surf Centre. I mean, the place had everything you'd ever want for your pre-or post-surfing session: a totally separate building from the hotel with comfortable changing facilities and showers, a fully-stocked supply of boards and wet-suits, a nicely-warmed hot tub and a main hangout lounge with a bar, video screens and comfy couches.

"We could have simply built a spa like every other hotel," Schmunk explained to me as he took me on a tour of the place. "But we wanted to do something different. Something that reflected the culture of this place. We figure the Surf Centre will be used by something like five per cent of our clientele — so it's not a huge percentage — but I think the potential for growth is significant. And it's a great branding tool for us."

Indeed. And the Lodge's staff members reflect the uniquely northern surf culture that's established itself along this coast in recent years. Young, healthy. outgoing — and totally passionate about the ocean and surfing — Perry's still-enthusiastic charges remind me of the kind of people who used to inhabit Whistler 30 years ago. They're not here for the money. They're here for the rush. And their boss understands that well. "I can be demanding," he says. "I have high expectations. But I get why most of these young people move here. If they have fun living and working at the Lodge, then my guests have fun too. In the end, it's all about balance..."

And me? Has my non-surfing vow affected my trip? No question. But to be absolutely honest, I've been entertained by other — less aggressive — coastal activities in the area. The trail hiking in and around Long Beach National Park, for example, is a-ma-zing, as is the offshore fishing. Even spending the afternoon cruising around the (admittedly) eccentric town of Tofino is worthwhile. I mean this is the literal end of the road. You can't go any further west than here. Which makes for fascinating cultural flotsam and jetsam. Again — don't want to push the analogy too far — but Tofino culture reminds me of pre-Intrawest Whistler. There is no big dominant player here; no entity with an over-arching agenda to change the landscape and cash in on people's dreams. In other words, this place is still real...

More than anything though, I've been surprised at how much I've enjoyed just sitting by the water and meditating on the ocean's strength and power. In the pouring rain. In the blasting sunshine. Even in the mild interstice between the two extremes. Doesn't matter what the weather's been like outside — I've enjoyed it all. Maybe I'm getting old. Maybe I'm getting... wiser. Who knows? But now I understand that standing still sometimes can be rewarding. And if only for that illuminating insight, I'm glad I made the trip...