Galiano - Part One (or Part One of the Most Unbelievably Terrible Field Trip Imaginable)

Tripadvisor describes Galiano Island as a “beautiful and peaceful [place]”, and “a fabulous day trip destination for those seeking a taste of the Gulf Islands”. HelloBC suggests that “there’s no easier Gulf Islands getaway from BC mainland than Galiano Island”. Videos reviewing the island rave about its comforts and pristine natural sights in infomercial-esque voices. Few recount their tales of the island’s unyielding hills and unnerving cliffs, and of the friends they lost on its trails.

In grade three, the teachers in my elementary school had the very exciting idea of going to Galiano Island on a pilgrimage to my teacher’s cabin.

Because it promised to be a lovely opportunity to introduce kids to the beauty of nature, it was also decided that the grade sevens would come and accompany the grade threes.

Now, this seemed like a good idea. I mean, fresh air, ferries, hiking, and picnic lunches with ocean overlooks aren't adored anywhere like they are in B.C. Just look up Galiano hikes and revel in the videos and images of gorgeous scenery with soft background jazz and warm filters over them.

However, to an overweight, under-exercised kid with a fondness for video games, just the word "Galiano" caused anxiety to build inside of me like a fire.

The details about the trip that became known to participating grade 3 and 7 classes are as follows:

The hike would take 3 hours each direction.

We were only allowed to be heard speaking French (c’etait l’immersion Francais).

We would be carrying our own lunches and note taking devices.

We would be assigned to groups made up of one grade seven and three grade threes.

There were hiking guides who would be threatening to teach us about the environment.

In retrospect, the whole trip could have gone well, and this could be a story about how unfit kids can discover how much they love to walk up hills and touch moss. But that’s giving B.C. weather too much credit.

So, to end the exposition and begin my recount of the infamous Galiano trip of 2003, I should begin by stating that the rain had been relentless the week before our departure. This might make you think the excitement begins once the children step out of the bus and land knee deep in mud, but let’s back up to when, in one of the buses, a grade three gets a pencil in the eye and is then quarantined in the bus with the only medically trained parent on the trip.

So, one grade three down and already no doctor on board, we began our trek through the muddy terrain, and immediately turn up one of the steepest (and slipperiest) hills on the island.

As we hiked in our clusters of grade threes and sevens, all of whom were trying their best to ignore the other age cohort, we could hear mysterious creaking and crashing sounds through the woods.

No one made any comment on them beyond the occasional “Did you hear—je veut dire, avait-vous entendu ca?” until we heard a very close, very pronounced creak, crack, cronk, SMASH, AIIIEEEE!!!

The creaking had been trees falling over in the mud.

The smashing had been the trees hitting the ground.

The scream had been the sound of a tree breaking the leg of a grade three.

Two down, fifty eight to go. As the second victim of the trip was dragged back down the hill the bus (or makeshift hospital), the rest of us continued our hike towards the scenic cliffside overlook.

Now, with two children wounded, some organizers might have stopped the hike. Some organizers might have called it quits once we got to the cliffs. That would have been a good place to end it and hurry the children away from the island’s merciless backlash. But not our teachers. They were Quebecois. They saw the island’s attack as a challenge, and they took it.

So once we got to the lunch cliffs, there was a swift, unanimous decision over food to hike on, and let the wounded children bleed on the bus. But Galiano wasn’t quite done with us yet. As we split into two groups for the two grade three classes—one on either cliff— and sat down to eat lunch, we heard another shriek and a series of screams from the other cliff...

In part two!