Hi Haida!

In the fog of deadlines, overdue bills, and business growth, I often forget how fortunate I am. And then, a client asks me to fly to the Haida Gwaii to be a part of a spectacular project that makes my heart beat fast and my insides shiver and I realize: Wow, life is pretty amazing!

I flew to Haida Gwaii at the end of April on the first beautiful day of the year after 6 months of rain and grey clouds. I landed down at the Masset Airport – a cabin with one airstrip. The pilot dropped me off at the door. Literally.

Masset Airport – Door to Door Service

Waiting for my luggage, I realized there was no one else waiting. The airport was vacant. And the plane that dropped me off just gassed up and was airbound again. I looked outside. The "Baggage Claim" was the ground by the fence.

I love this place, I thought.

My phone had no reception. I used a pay phone for the first time in years to call a "cab". Actually, I called "Herb", and he said he knew I was coming and was on his way.

Everyone waved as we drove into the village.
Everyone smiled.

Sometimes, it's nice to be totally disconnected from email, phone, and obligations and reconnect to the simple art form of community.

I met with two incredible Haida Gwaii who told me about the magic of the land, the history of the culture, and the felled Golden Spruce (the reason I was here in the first place.)

Then, my client said the best sentence I have ever heard in my career:
"To do great work Kim, you're going to have to go hike the trails and experience the land."

And so I did. I hiked Tow Hill, a spit of land with a 500 ft hill amidst flatlands and sky-high spruce. A naturally occurring blowhole in the rocks gurgled and splashed. The sun shone intently. The trees rocked in the wind.

Tow Hill Beach

This is a magical place.

View from the top of Tow Hill

In the morning, after a snooze in a sweet cabin with an even sweeter owner (who prepared me a delicious vegan breakfast – Thank you!), I hopped on over to the Golden Spruce Trail for a 7 a.m. hike. It was misty and cool. The temperature dropped about 7 degrees only 10 paces in. The tree trunks were the size of trucks. The air was crisp and crunchy. The silence was healing.

I walked. The ground crunched. The birds chirped. I listened. Branches sang in the wind. Squirrels scurried.

At the trail's main turnaround point, just 20 minutes in, the Yakoun River runs wild and cool. There are five species of salmon running here. Locals feed their families from this river and make medicines from the trees. Over the river is a snag – this is the Golden Spruce. Or what is left of the magical tree that was felled in 1997 by a logging protester.

But although the ancient tree – once regarded as a beacon of life – is grey and wilted, the magic is not lost. I stood there. Silent. Breathing in. Eyes closes. Head upturned. Lips curled in a half grin.

I could solve the world's problems here, I thought.

The sun rose. And the tops of the Sitka Spruce turned gold. Like they were gems alit from within.
It was a fairy tale unfolding.

The sun rises over the Golden Spruce Trail

Four hours later, Herb dropped me off at the airport again, I walked onto the tarmac and into the plane, buckled up and headed home.

Just 24 hours in this magical place, and I was nourished, happy, complete.
It must be the most beautiful place on earth.