The Chill of a Forest Camp
Morning in Victoria showed no mercy.
The tent I had pitched in the forests of Mt. Richmond was wrapped in white mist and frosty breath at dawn. The temperature had dropped below ten degrees, leaving my body stiff like ice.
And yet, the rising steam from a cup of hot coffee slowly loosened my mind and body. Despite the cold, the thought of reaching Portland today gave me strength to move forward.
The Road to Portland
With everything packed, I set off on my bicycle. The road was kind, filled with gentle downhills that erased the pain of yesterday’s endless climbs.
Soon, the townscape of Portland appeared beneath the gray sky, carrying a strange softness.
Known as Victoria’s first European settlement, Portland is a small port town of about 10,000 people, its history still marked by whaling and fishing. For a traveler, it is a place where the scent of the sea and the traces of culture linger strongly in the air.
A White Bird and a Chance Connection
While having lunch, a pure white bird appeared before me, sharp-eyed and fixed on my bread. I couldn’t help but laugh as I guarded my meal. Even such small moments turn into memories on the road.
Later, I visited the museum to pass the time before meeting my host in the evening. At the entrance, while chatting with the staff, an incredible coincidence unfolded:
“The host you’re staying with tonight… I think that’s my colleague.”
It was one of those impossible coincidences that travel makes possible. A quiet but powerful sense of wonder spread inside me.
Whale Bones and Ocean History
Inside the museum stood the massive skeleton of a whale. Its size was overwhelming, forcing me to tilt my head back just to take it all in.
The exhibits told the story of Portland’s whaling era and of the people who had lived side by side with the ocean.
For me, it wasn’t just knowledge—it was a deeper connection to the land I was standing on, a reminder that every place carries layers of untold history.
Art Along the Coast
After leaving the museum, I walked to the coast.
There, the vast ocean spread out before me. The crashing waves, the salty wind, the shimmering surface—all of it felt alive.
It was like “living art,” and all I could do was stand still and take it in.
There were no “Do Not Enter” signs here. It was up to me, and only me, to face nature directly—with both freedom and responsibility.
The Warmth of a Host’s Home
That evening, I was welcomed into my host’s home. The children’s bright smiles and the warmth of a homemade dinner filled the room.
The table was set with heartfelt dishes and a sweet dessert to finish the meal.
No matter how cold the day, it is the kindness of people that makes the journey possible. And once again, embraced by warmth, another day came to a quiet close.
