Blogging has become harder over the last few years. Sharing the name and location of the beautiful places we visit attracts more people to some already overused trails and boondocking spots or means we are revealing a friend’s lesser known spot… sharing my life and heart often infringes on my teens’ personal life and their stories are not mine to share anymore. Beautiful images are shared on Instagram as soon as they are captured and spur of the moments thought and bits and pieces are shared in stories. So what is left for the blog?

Maybe the blog can be a good place to step back and reflect every few months? I like that idea.

The blog will be a more global portrait of our life, a reflection.

As you might know, we have spent the months of July and August in a house in Squamish while our bus was at our friends’ shop, getting a well-deserved facelift (esthetic and mechanical, but mostly incredibly practical - check the Our bus and Westy section for the photos!). It’s been interesting - and honestly quite easy - to fall back into a brick-and-mortar lifestyle, but Squamish is sooo awesome, it’s really easy to love, especially when you can escape every weekend (or after work!) to hike or bike to some of these incredible locations. We had a beautiful crystal clear river a 5 minute walk from our place (to rock-retrieving Stout’s greatest pleasure) and we could watch rock climbers on the big walls behind our house while sitting in our yard! We also witnessed many search and rescue helicopters coming back from there every weekend…. I understood a bit better how easy it is to underestimate some of the hikes/bikes/climbs in this area and become the next person to need a rescue. It seems to me that most everything here is “hard”. An “easy” hike requires you to climb (and down climb) a boulder field. It seems like everybody and their neighbours, their doctors and their mechanics is an athlete here. Which is great, but also a bit intimidating for the not-super-into-fitness-nature-lover that I am. I huffed and puffed my way up steep climbs and white knuckled my descent through giant slippery rocks, getting back to the Westy bruised and tired, but very proud and recharged. And I’ll keep at it because that’s where I love to be, even if it means being slow and stopping as often as a toddler through the rough parts. I’ve waited for my girls enough years that it’s their turn now! And they carry the lunch too! Onward and upward. Life with teens is the best, hormone galore, kitchen explosions and hair-clogged drains included (just kidding, that’s sooo gross).