Published October 28th, 2025

Photos by James Ross except one; we think you’ll know which one. Photo credit for that is a friendly stranger who said yes to James’ on-the-spot request for a photo.

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Flip-flops, shorts, graphic T, shades and a flat-peaked ball cap. I even have a scruffy beard happening (if slightly grey). I am feeling very cool, and why not? I am enjoying the Vancouver Island vibe, and am road-tripping with my wife in a groovy campervan. The only thing I am missing are a couple of surf boards lashed to the roof. Otherwise, these kinds of wheels make me feel hip by simple association.

It began, as all epic Canadian road trips do, with a romantic plan and a wildly optimistic Google Maps estimate. Our ride? A shiny new rental campervan called Karma—a sleek, high-roof Ford van, with a wonderfully-crafted interior. Built for going off-grid, with solar panels and chassis-charger lines, a cozy queen bed with views, two-burner portable stove, camp chairs and folding table – all neatly organized and stored. She was less “rustic van life” and more “road-trip glamping.”

We picked her up in Richmond not far from YVR, and jumped on a ferry to Nanaimo. The plan? My road trip would take me up-Island, to the rugged, unassuming, and generally quieter north, driving Karma to Campbell River, then west through Gold River to Nootka Sound, before heading on to the misty northern edge of the island, through Port Hardy, Port McNeil, Alert Bay, and back to Nanaimo.

From the start, Karma handled like a dream. She hummed along like a spaceship, gliding along the coast and through little towns on the ocean-side route, as we cranked old Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, and Peter, Paul and Mary tunes, and waved at every other van we passed (because #VanLife etiquette is real.) Locals gawked as I drove past, admiring my groovy appearance (I told my wife,) or perhaps the impressive and finely appointed Karma (she told me.)

We stopped at Qualicum Beach’s downtown market for a spiritual coffee refuel. The café was called something like Bean There, Sipped That (I honestly can’t remember). While I was waiting for them to steam our lattes, my wife (never averse to a few moments' escape to shop) was buying an assortment of cheeses, smoked salmon, and a baguette for the road - in case I got “hangry” she said. Never!

Enjoying the Moutcha Bay Resort Campground.

After a few days travelling and camping along the shoreline looking out at the ocean, we decided it was time to get out on it. So, we turned west at Campbell River, passed through the little town of Gold River, and bumped over some gravel until reaching Nootka Sound and Moutcha Bay Resort on the island’s northwest coast. Their campground is spectacular, with sweeping views out over the sound. We enjoyed dinner and a campfire, while watching sea otters frolicking in the turquoise water below – the colour of the ocean looking more Caribbean than west coast.

I have arranged for us to go out on one of their luxurious fishing boats on a quest for salmon. So, we rose early and headed out in a misty rain filled with high expectations. Now, that my fishing game is not the best is always a great subject for family ribbing. Today followed suit. My wife caught an impressive Chinook, and hooked a couple others that got away. I just offered her encouragement and praise, while watching my own lonely fishing rod swaying in a gathering storm. No worries, I had nothing I had to clean. We escaped the rough seas out in the open water and tucked into sheltered Friendly Cove.

That night, Karma sheltered us from the drizzle and the sound of the wind rushing through the tall Sitka spruce that hedged our campsite. We went for a pint of Driftwood Fat Tug and a wood-fired artisan pizza at the resort’s Conuma Grill, read a couple pages of our books (at least I pretended to so my wife would quit talking about her fishing prowess), and fell asleep in our cozy bed, the van rocking gently in the coastal wind like a lullaby.

As we headed further up the island, the signal bars dropped on our cells, the towns got gradually smaller, and gas stations started looking like movie sets from a horror film. We pulled Karma into Cluxewe Campground, a gorgeous, windswept strip of land. As the sun dipped into the sea, the three of us sat by a bonfire (taking care not to scorch Karma’s shapely grill) and watched the sky light up in pinks and purples.

We debated heading on to Cape Scott, but when we heard that the road there was 70 kilometers of bone-jolting potholes and gravel, with the occasional bear-crossing warning – I took pity on my partner (no not my wife, Karma) and decided to crank her wheel homeward. We stopped at Port Hardy for fish tacos, Port McNeil for gas, Telegraph Cove for some existential reflection, and at a roadside stand near Hyde Creek where my wife bought a bag of dried kelp snacks, for no known reason.

Sending my wife in first to test safety at the Upana Caves.

We experienced some great adventures on the road trip - white racoons and indigenous culture on Nanaimo’s Saysutshun Island, camping at Pacific Playground at Saratoga Beach along with 300 noisy pooches (not knowing the dog show circuit was also booked in), sipping coffee oceanside while orcas glided past in Campbell River, and hiking along mossy boardwalks in old-growth forests where the trees looked prehistoric.

We taped flashlights on our hats and tried our hand at caving in the Upana Caves near Gold River, had a lesson in totem carving from indigenous artist Ahtsik-sta Qwayachiik (Sanford Williams) at Friendly Cove, and visited the sacred totems of Alert Bay. At Saratoga Beach we swam (put our toes in water) and carved “Karma Was Here” inside a heart in the sand, just in case anyone questioned our dedication to the van life aesthetic. When we got side-tracked on these adventures, Karma waited patiently in the parking lot like a loyal dog. We hiked, took dramatic photos of waterfalls, teetered across suspension bridges, and swore we were “definitely going to buy a campervan when we got home.”

White Sails Brewing in downtown Nanaimo.

Occasionally, we grabbed an Uber (because it is bad karma to drink and campervan) from our oceanside campsites to visit nearby distilleries, craft breweries, and wineries, or to enjoy some local entertainment at downtown night festivals. When we went out a couple nights in a row, however, Karma greeted us on our return with a warning light on her dash. Drama!

By the time we rolled back into Nanaimo, Karma was slightly dusty, but fully baptized by the northern wild. And us? We were road-worn, kelp-fueled, and, in spite of our many hours stuck together in the vehicle, totally in love - with campervan life, Northern Vancouver Island, and our sweet pretty van named Karma.

Be Hip – Go Campervanning

While they have many bases across the country, we rented our own lovely Karma from the Karma Campervans outlet in Richmond British Columbia. Because, doesn’t the campervan vibe groove best with that Vancouver Island vibe?

Rolling Karma – A Campervan Odyssey up Vancouver Island!

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