A Land That I Call Home
Vancouver Island isn’t just where I live, it’s where I belong.
October 05, 2025 ◦ 2 minute ◦
A land that I call home
Free for me to roam
Its coastlines of stone
To mountains throne
I love not the fuel,
I do not love the rain,
I have no heart for tool,
But the alpine calls my name
The vehicle I call my own
Darkest green perfect home
Wheels became my roots
Through temperate rainforest routes
Ragged breath follows
Like my shadow upon the soil
My footsteps echo in the hollows
Like the heartbeat from my toil
Push past the brush, the trees, the rivers
Boulders and talus remain
The horizon burns and the mountain shivers
Deepest orange and indigo paint sky and sea
A sight so beautiful,
Familiar colors on a new scene
I belong in the mountains,
But I kayak the seas
I am an alpine hiker,
And I swim the lakes
Because the land that I roam
Is intentionally where I call home
Free for me to roam
Its coastlines of stone
To mountains throne
I love not the fuel,
I do not love the rain,
I have no heart for tool,
But the alpine calls my name
The vehicle I call my own
Darkest green perfect home
Wheels became my roots
Through temperate rainforest routes
Ragged breath follows
Like my shadow upon the soil
My footsteps echo in the hollows
Like the heartbeat from my toil
Push past the brush, the trees, the rivers
Boulders and talus remain
The horizon burns and the mountain shivers
Deepest orange and indigo paint sky and sea
A sight so beautiful,
Familiar colors on a new scene
I belong in the mountains,
But I kayak the seas
I am an alpine hiker,
And I swim the lakes
Because the land that I roam
Is intentionally where I call home
Vancouver Island is a place of contradictions, temperate rainforests and alpine peaks, rocky coastlines and sheltered bays. My truck (“The Mothership,” as my friends call it) has taken me to much of it, and I’m still discovering new corners.