A Timely Pause in Salmon Arm

Blackburn Park, Salmon Arm, BC across from Trail Tire

The day before, we were in Revelstoke—soaking in the mountain air, riding emotional waves, and doing our best to stay grounded.

The next morning, we hit the road with Whistler in our sights. But after a close call with one of the back tires, we decided it was time to give the Pink Sloth a full set of new ones—to avoid any blowouts down the line.

That’s how we ended up in Salmon Arm, searching for a tire shop and crossing our fingers for a little luck. And, as it turns out, that stop became one of the sweetest surprises of our trip so far.

The tire shop happened to be right across from Blackburn Park, a big, beautiful green space that felt like a little gift from the universe. And lucky us—they took us in early!

We wandered over to the park while the Pink Sloth got some much-needed TLC and ended up spending nearly two and a half hours there. The kids explored every corner of the play structures, and there was even an outdoor gym area—Simon encouraged me to try some pull-ups (we laughed more than we lifted, but still).

She may move slow, but she’s rolling in style. Pink Sloth’s getting her tire game on at Trail Tire.

We hadn’t planned to spend two and a half hours at a park while waiting on tires—but because we’re on our timeline, not someone else’s, it didn’t feel like a disruption. It felt like space. Had we been rushing to meet someone else’s schedule, the delay might have been frustrating.

But instead, we got to linger. To move slowly. To let the day unfold instead of trying to control it.

I even had a moment where that old voice crept in—telling me I should be doing something productive with the time. But then I looked around, saw the girls playing, felt the sun on my skin, and reminded myself: this is the point. So I let go.

Caught between adventures. Élyssa, the grass, and a moment of pure calm.

At one point, Arielle got a little dizzy from spinning on one of the games and laid down on the grass with Kuna. She looked so peaceful that I couldn’t resist—so I laid down beside her. A moment later, Élyssa curled up on top of me, and Simon quietly snapped a photo of us all, tangled in that perfect stillness.

No rushing, no hurrying—just us, the grass, and a little sloth-style stillness.

Earlier that morning, just before heading to the park, I had received a message from home—my father was going to be dismissed from the ICU as soon as they found a bed in the regular department. Relief, tenderness, and a lump in my throat all at once. Somehow, it felt like the moment and the message were linked—a quiet reminder to soften, to breathe, and to trust the timing of things.

Lying in the grass with my daughters, the sun warming our faces, I felt something I hadn’t in a while—a deep, exhale kind of calm. Not because everything was perfect, but because, for just a moment, it was enough.

We hadn’t planned to stop in Salmon Arm. We were rushing to get to Whistler before the weekend, holding on to timelines like they were carved in stone. But this little stop reminded us: the best moments usually happen when you let go of the plan.

Later that evening, we found a viewpoint just past Lillooet to sleep for the night. After a day of detours and unexpected pauses, the mountains felt even more magical—and the road ahead, a little softer.

Cayoosh Point gave us this peaceful wake-up call. Would you park here for the night?

Sometimes, slowing down isn’t a detour—it’s the point.

Ever ended up somewhere you didn’t mean to, and it turned out to be exactly what you needed?Share your favorite “happy accident” on the road (or in life!) in the comments—we love collecting those kinds of stories. 💬💛