SOMETHING IN THE WATER

The Sunshine Coast is named for bright days, but the nights here bring a living kind of light.

By Alyssa Hirose

Iwonder if the six strangers in this Sprinter van can tell I got engaged three days ago.

My parents and sister know, as does my partner—who, of course, engineered the whole thing. But the proposal (and acceptance) happened right before I was scheduled to hop in this van and board a ferry to the Sunshine Coast. So, I had a choice: either copy-and-paste a mass text to my friends and family— expedient, if impersonal and anticlimactic—or wait until I return to deliver the news in person and indulge in all the screams, gasps and happy tears.

I opted to wait. So now I’m on a work trip with a half-dozen other people who work in media, in what I’m quickly learning is one of the most romantic places in the world.

And it’s not just the rose-coloured glasses that are metaphorically sitting on my freshly engaged face. After ferrying over to Gibsons and then navigating the winding coast road for about an hour and a half, we arrive at the luxury cabin-style West Coast Wilderness Lodge in Egmont (and a truly breathtaking view). Standing on my patio just before sunset, I’m surrounded by a gold glow that radiates off the evergreen-covered mountains over Skookumchuck Narrows. In a few hours, the whirlpools and whitewater of the nearby Sechelt Rapids will be at their peak. For now, the water is calm and the serenity is unreal.

The hotel restaurant, called Inlets, is dotted along its windowed perimeter with couples eager to catch these last few moments of sunlight. Our haphazard crew of seven stands out, both in our number and in the obvious fact that we’re far less in love with each other than the rest of the clientele. I learn that all of the other journalists in my group are married, and after a single glass of sparkling wine (bolstered by my natural inability to shut up), I tell them that I just got engaged. “Less than 72 hours ago,” I specify over a beautiful heirloom tomato salad. “Yes, I’m very happy,” I confirm while extracting a juicy mussel from its shell. “No, we have not set a date yet,” I answer, trying not to choke on the crunchy yams topping my delicate lingcod. (I make a note for the future to refrain from replying to insane questions while eating delicious food.)

I’m trying to manage my expectations for this evening. It’s hard, because the activity on tonight’s schedule is the one I’ve been most looking forward to—the thing that made me completely comfortable with abandoning my partner as he was barely getting up off his one knee—and that is bioluminescent kayaking.