Judy Smith is an intrepid Rambler who loves to hike, bike and participate in competitive rowing in the Cowichan Valley on Vancouver Island, Canada. She is a lifelong educator, school principal and mother of two grown kids.
Sometimes a getaway doesn’t have to take you far to take you deep—and that’s exactly what Malcolm Island offered. Just one ferry ride (okay, plus some planning and coordination) away, this magical spot gave five Sole Sisters and our five brave partners a perfect week of reconnection, restoration, and a little bit of driftwood engineering.
We’ve long joked that our partners need us to organize these trips so they can develop their own friendships. Why don’t men reach out to each other like we do? Who knows. But once they’re plunked down around a campfire or fixing a snapped tent trailer cable together, the camaraderie flows just fine.
We set up camp near Sointula, the island’s only community—a place as charming as its name is lyrical. “Sointula” means "place of harmony" in Finnish, and it truly lives up to its name. That said, harmony briefly paused when the cables on my tent trailer gave up the ghost. Luckily, we had a full complement of handy folks with us, and watching the collaborative repair efforts might’ve been the trip’s first group bonding activity.
We hiked the Beautiful Bay Trail, which was a relaxed Ramble—until we decided to detour down to the beach. The descent? A little tricky. The reward? A regal, silent eagle keeping watch from a log, as if to remind us who really owns this beach.
The Mateoja Heritage Trail turned out to be an unexpected gem. We wandered through the ghostly remains of old homesteads, past weathered fences and moss-covered artifacts, and eventually arrived at a tranquil lake—only to discover later that we could have driven there. But what’s the fun in that?
Our mornings followed a ritual we all quickly fell in love with: beach chairs, coffee mugs, and long gazes out over the tide. One day, we didn’t move at all. We just sat, talked, watched the waves, and let the ocean do its work on our over-full minds. It was the kind of day that reminded us rest doesn’t always mean doing nothing—it means doing exactly what your spirit needs.
We kayaked. We fished. We built a driftwood sculpture that might not win awards, but certainly sparked joy. We kept an eye on the rubbing beach, famous for orcas brushing their bellies on the stones. While none came close this time, we did catch glimpses of whales in the distance—just enough magic to keep us watching.
By the end of the week, our bodies were stretched, our minds quiet, and our friendships—both long-standing and newly forged—just a little deeper. We came home with sand in our shoes, salt in our hair, and hearts more full than when we left.
READ MORE > Ramble Log, Rambler Cafe Blog
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