Polka-Vita

It had been more than a year since I’d last been in Vancouver.

My last work trip here was back in July 2025, which feels slightly ridiculous considering Vancouver is one of those places I always leave thinking, Why don’t I come here more often?

So when I finally had another Vancouver trip on my roster, and an extended one at that, I was very happy.

Normally, my layovers here are around 24 hours. Enough time to sleep, eat, squeeze in a walk and remind myself how much I love the place before getting back on the aircraft and flying home.

This time, though, I had something much better: almost 48 hours, including an entire clear day in Vancouver.

Obviously, I intended to use every second of it.

And Vancouver was already beginning to show the tiniest signs of autumn.

As a self-confessed autumn girl, this made me ridiculously happy. A few leaves were beginning to change, there were little flashes of warmer colour appearing amongst all the green, and somehow the weather gave me two absolutely beautiful days.

It felt like the perfect welcome back.

Accidentally Recruiting a Hiking Team

My original plan for my full day was to go hiking alone.

During our briefing before the flight, however, the usual conversation started.

What’s everyone doing downroute? Any plans?

I mentioned that I was planning to hike to Norvan Falls, and suddenly a few people were interested.

By the following morning, our little expedition had settled at three of us.

We met around 7:30 a.m., ordered an Uber and headed towards the trail.

Easy.

Except, naturally, nothing I plan ever seems to remain completely straightforward.

The route we should have taken to access the trail was closed for construction, which meant we ended up on a detour that added roughly another three kilometres to our day.

As frustrating as that sounded at first, the detour actually turned into such a lovely part of the walk.

It took us through a quiet residential neighbourhood that felt ridiculously Canadian – tree-lined streets, pretty houses, children heading to school with their parents, and all these small quirky details that kept making us stop to take photos.

It was peaceful, incredibly pretty, and gave us a little glimpse of everyday suburban life that we probably never would have seen otherwise.

We eventually walked past the construction itself and could literally see the steps we should have been coming down.

Excellent.

At least we got some bonus steps in.

Once we were properly on the trail, though, it was beautiful.

It wasn’t an exceptionally difficult hike, but there was definitely more climbing than I think any of us had anticipated. There were plenty of ups and downs, natural steps and sections where you could really feel the elevation.

And then there were moments where I was walking between trees and little branches, completely surrounded by forest, having what I can only describe as my Pocahontas moment.

Apparently this is who I become when left in the Canadian wilderness.

“It’s Only Ten Minutes Away”

Somewhere along the trail, we passed a couple of women walking in the opposite direction.

By this point, naturally, we wanted to know the answer to the question every hiker eventually asks:

“How much further?”

“About ten minutes!”

Perfect.

Ten minutes.

We could absolutely do ten minutes.

So we carried on.

And then we reached a little suspension bridge.

Naturally, the suspension bridge required a photo shoot.

There are some things you simply cannot walk past.

We took our photos, admired the surroundings and continued towards the waterfall, assuming it couldn’t possibly be much further away.

After all, we’d already been walking for considerably longer than the promised ten minutes.

We carried on.

And carried on.

And carried on.

At some point, “ten minutes” had very clearly become a work of fiction.

Half an hour or so later, we were still walking and beginning to wonder where these damn falls actually were.

Eventually, though, we made it.

Norvan Falls was beautiful, although September clearly wasn’t its most dramatic season. There wasn’t an enormous amount of water coming down, and because the water level was relatively low, you could see much more of the rock around the waterfall and get surprisingly close.

You could also imagine just how powerful it must look when the water levels are higher, particularly after heavier rain or during the wetter months.

Still, standing there surrounded by forest after walking all that way felt completely worth it.

And, obviously, we took more photos.

Meanwhile, I Had Booked a Seaplane

Because apparently a long hike wasn’t enough activity for one Wednesday, somewhere along the way I decided I was also going to fly to Victoria.

As you do.

I’d actually booked the flight while we were still travelling towards the hike that morning.

My original plan was perfect: fly from Vancouver to Victoria at around 2:30 p.m., spend a few hours there and catch a flight back around 6 p.m.

Plenty of time.

Except we’d acquired our unexpected three-kilometre detour, the hike had taken longer than anticipated, and there was absolutely no phone reception on the trail.

So while I was increasingly aware that my lovely little itinerary was falling apart, there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

By the time we finally reached the car park again and regained signal, it was around 1:30 p.m.

There was no way I was making that flight.

I’d also discovered that I needed ID for the journey, and my passport was back at the hotel. Even if I’d attempted to go directly to the seaplane terminal in my hiking clothes, I still wouldn’t have been able to board.

Thankfully, once we were back in the Uber, I managed to move my booking.

The next available flight was at 4:20 p.m.

Perfect.

It meant I could get back, have a very necessary outfit change, charge my dying phone, collect my passport and briefly sit down before heading straight back out again.

Because apparently resting for the remainder of the day was never an option.

Flying Over British Columbia

The seaplane ended up being one of my favourite things I’ve done on a layover.

I’ve flown a lot in my life, unsurprisingly, but this felt completely different.

The aircraft was tiny. Boarding happened only shortly before departure. There was even a little safety demonstration played on an iPad, which, as cabin crew, I found strangely adorable.

Then we were on the water.

And moments later, we were in the air.

The views were incredible.

There was something surreal about looking down over British Columbia from this tiny aircraft, surrounded by water, islands and mountains.

And somewhere up there, I had this completely unexpected wave of gratitude.

I remember looking out of the window and thinking how lucky I was.

It was a random Wednesday afternoon.

I’d spent the morning hiking through a Canadian forest to a waterfall, and now I was flying over British Columbia in a seaplane because I’d randomly decided that morning that I fancied going to Victoria.

I actually had a little tear in my eye.

Sometimes when you’re constantly travelling, it’s surprisingly easy to forget how extraordinary some of these experiences actually are.

That afternoon reminded me.

Approximately 30 Minutes in Victoria

When we landed in Victoria, everyone got off and I briefly spoke to one of the pilots.

I told him how much I’d loved the flight and mentioned that I was cabin crew myself, just usually on something considerably larger.

Because my return ticket was standby, I asked how it worked. He recommended that I go straight into the terminal and let them know I was there, then come back at the time they gave me to find out whether I’d made it onto the flight.

He even checked the flights for me and said my 6 p.m. departure was looking reasonably good, while the later one was considerably tighter.

Very useful information when you’re on an island and have a flight back to London the following day.

I walked straight from the dock into the tiny terminal and let them know I’d arrived.

It was around 5:10 p.m.

I was told to come back at 5:40.

Thirty minutes.

Right.

What followed was possibly the fastest sightseeing trip I’ve ever done.

I power-walked around the harbour, went on a mission for an iced coffee and bought myself a Victoria magnet for my collection.

Priorities.

Then it was straight back to find out whether my standby gamble had paid off.

Thankfully, it had.

I had a seat.

Victoria: completed.

Sort of.

Even the boarding pass made me happy, essentially a tiny ticket with a QR code on it.

There is something wonderfully uncomplicated about the whole operation.

Within minutes, I was boarding another little seaplane back to Vancouver.

Imagine This Being Your Commute

The flight back might have been even prettier.

The sun was beginning to drop, everything had that beautiful late-afternoon light over it, and I found myself watching some of the other passengers.

A few seemed to have barely any luggage. A backpack. A laptop bag.

And suddenly I thought:

Wait. Do people actually commute like this?

Imagine.

You finish work, walk down to the harbour, climb onto a seaplane and half an hour later you’re home.

I’ve known plenty of people in aviation who commute by aircraft. People fly between London and Manchester, Edinburgh and Heathrow, or even between countries to get to work.

But commuting by seaplane?

That feels like an entirely different category of life.

And yet the whole process was so easy. You arrive shortly before departure, board, watch your tiny safety briefing and off you go.

No enormous airport. No hours sitting at a gate.

Just harbour, plane, sky.

I could get used to that.

One Very Long Wednesday

Back in Vancouver, I still wasn’t quite ready to call it a day.

I went searching for a Vancouver sign I’d wanted to find, only to eventually discover that it apparently wasn’t there anymore.

Never mind.

By this point, I also realised I’d barely eaten anything substantial all day.

Hiking nearly 20 kilometres followed by flying to another city apparently requires food.

Who knew?

I found a food court and ended up getting McDonald’s, and even that felt aggressively Canadian because the golden arches had a tiny maple leaf incorporated into the logo.

I loved it.

Eventually, sometime around 8 or 9 p.m., I finally made it back to my room.

By the end of the day I’d covered around 19 kilometres on the hike alone, accumulated somewhere in the region of 38,000 steps, visited a waterfall, accidentally taken a three-kilometre detour, flown to Victoria, consumed an iced coffee at record speed, bought a magnet, flown back to Vancouver and gone wandering around the city at sunset.

A perfectly normal Wednesday.

One More Morning — and My Vancouver Tradition

I was flying home the following afternoon, with pickup just before 4 p.m., which still left me with an entire morning.

And there was one place I knew I wanted to go.

Stanley Park.

Unlike the hike and the seaplane adventure, Stanley Park wasn’t something new I was trying to squeeze into this particular layover.

It’s one of my Vancouver traditions.

Every time I come here, I somehow end up back at Stanley Park. Sometimes I walk it. Sometimes I get a bicycle. But one way or another, a trip to Vancouver never really feels complete without going back.

The extended layover had given me the opportunity to do things I don’t normally have enough time for, disappearing into the forest in search of Norvan Falls, spontaneously jumping on a seaplane and technically visiting another city for half an hour.

But on my final morning, I wanted something familiar.

I grabbed a coffee and headed towards the park.

After the chaos of the previous day, it felt completely different.

No rushing for flights. No checking whether I had phone reception. No wondering whether a waterfall was actually ten minutes away.

Just walking.

I ended up covering around 15 kilometres, surrounded by water, trees and those first tiny signs that autumn was beginning to arrive.

And inevitably, somewhere along the way, I started thinking about Vancouver.

The Place I Always Come Back Thinking About

There are places I love visiting.

And then there are places where I find myself wondering what it would actually feel like to live there.

Vancouver has always been the latter.

It’s not a new thought.

Every time I come here, even when it’s only for a short 24-hour layover, I leave wondering why I don’t come more often.

There’s something about the combination of city and nature that gets me every time.

You can have coffee in the city in the morning and be surrounded by mountains, forests and waterfalls not long afterwards. There is water everywhere. People seem to genuinely use the outdoors as part of everyday life rather than something reserved for holidays or weekends.

And perhaps that’s why Vancouver feels different to me.

It fits so many of the things I love into one place.

Walking. Hiking. Mountains. Water. Seasons. City life.

And apparently the possibility of commuting to work by seaplane.

I’m not announcing an imminent move to Canada.

But walking around Stanley Park that morning, after one of the best layover days I’d had in a long time, I found myself having the same thought I’ve had here before:

I could live here.

Maybe that’s why, despite having not visited for more than a year, coming back didn’t really feel like discovering Vancouver again.

It felt more like being reminded why I’d missed it.

And after almost 48 hours, approximately a million steps, one waterfall, two seaplane flights and the world’s quickest visit to Victoria, it was finally time to go home.

Until next time, Vancouver.

Hopefully I won’t leave it another year.