Seaside Wonder and Easter Magic: A Long Weekend with the Schmidts

Turning over rocks for tiny crabs at Belcarra Bay, surrounded by good friends and salty air.

After a few busy travel days, Sunday brought a slower, sweeter rhythm as we settled in with the Schmidts for the Easter long weekend.

The day started with two Easter egg hunts—one at their house, full of laughter and excitement, and another later at Westhill Park in Port Moody. The kids raced through the grass, baskets swinging, smiles wide, soaking in the simple magic of finding brightly coloured treasures tucked under bushes and trees.

Easter joy at Westhill Park—baskets, giggles, and spring sunshine.

Easter Sunday also brought some beautiful news from home: my father was discharged from the hospital. After some very difficult days, he was able to enjoy a family dinner with my sister, her husband, their daughter, my brother, and my mother. Even though we were far away, knowing that they were gathered together, safe and healing, made the day feel even sweeter.

In the afternoon, we packed up and headed to Belcarra Park, tucked beside the peaceful waters of Belcarra Bay. Lunch was a treat: Banh Mi sandwiches and bubble tea, from Delicious Pho, enjoyed quickly while walking in the sun. It was a little windier and colder than we had anticipated, so we stayed moving, closing in on the beach where the kids could roam.

The shoreline became a world of wonder. The kids spent time lifting rocks to find tiny crabs hiding underneath, marveling at each small discovery. A seal made an appearance too, swimming close to the dock and bobbing through the waves—another little piece of magic stitched into the fabric of the day.

Lost in the magic of tiny creatures along the Belcarra shoreline.

We had originally planned to hike one of the trails at Belcarra, but when we arrived, we found it was closed. Not ready to call it a day, we pivoted and drove over to Sasamat Lake for a longer walk instead.

The plan was to loop the lake—a walk that would take about an hour and a half.

We got plenty of pushback from the kids at first, their energy worn thin after a full morning and afternoon. But we stayed strong and stuck to the plan, trusting that the effort would be worth it.

And it was. As soon as we reached the trail, the kids' moods shifted. They ran ahead, laughed, and played along the shoreline, their earlier complaints forgotten in the face of water views, towering trees, and the lush green forest.

They didn’t want to go—but the trails, the trees, and the lake worked their quiet magic.

It’s always amazing how quickly nature can work its magic—especially when you give it just a little bit of time.

Two giggly passengers, one happy hiker, and a trail full of joy.

Monday: Slow Steps and Full Hearts

Monday brought a slower start—and a full crew. Jesse, who had been working on Sunday, was now off for 4 days, and it felt good to have everyone together again.

We stayed close to home and headed out for a relaxed walk on the Ridge Park Loop Trail, a beautiful little forested trail not far from their house. The pace was easy, the chatter light. The kids raced ahead, doubled back, and found plenty of sticks and mossy treasures to keep their imaginations fueled.

Emilia and her trusty trail stick—on a very important mission.

Two families, one forest, and a shared love for wandering trails and making memories.

Four adventurers on the ridge, soaking in the view and the feeling of being somewhere wild and free.

After the walk, we made our way back to the house for lunch—tuna sandwiches made with sourdough bread from the Birken Bakery. Simple, hearty, and just what we needed after a morning outside.

After lunch, the kids settled into an easy rhythm too. Mattias and Arielle got along especially well, spending hours playing Minecraft together, laughing, building, and getting lost in their imaginary worlds. When they were much younger, they used to call each other on FaceTime, sharing little pieces of their days from afar. Life eventually got busy, and those calls slipped away—but watching them reconnect so effortlessly now felt like no time had passed at all.

That afternoon, the Schmidts had a family dinner planned with their extended relatives. We decided to take the quiet time to catch up on some personal accounting and for me to work a little on the blog—trying to keep the memories fresh while they’re still close to the heart.

Simon took the girls to the pool and jacuzzi at their complex, giving them some fun and movement while I stayed back to write.

Balancing these two parts of myself—the part that wants to be fully present and the part that feels called to document and share our journey—has been one of the biggest challenges of this trip. It’s not always perfect. But maybe the heart of this adventure is learning how to live in both spaces at once—with gratitude for what’s happening now, and a deep love for remembering it later.

Tuesday: Crunches, Snow, and Shared Tables

Tuesday morning started with a burst of movement: Lien and I carved out a little time for ourselves and tackled the Coquitlam Crunch—a steep, heart-pumping trail of stairs and switchbacks. It felt good to move, to talk, to laugh our way up the hill together.

At the bottom of the Crunch—still smiling, because we haven’t started climbing yet. 😅💪

While Lien and I tackled the Coquitlam Crunch, Simon walked part of the way with us, then headed back to the house to put Nolan down for a nap and do a bit of homeschooling with Arielle and Élyssa.

He’s become a master of blending learning into our days on the road—making space for math, reading, and curiosity even between naps and mountain views. Lien’s older kids were off to school, slipping back into their regular routine, and Jesse had an appointment that morning for his second vasectomy procedure—a little reminder that real life keeps moving, even in the middle of adventure.

Later in the day, after school, we packed everyone up and headed to Grouse Mountain. We had originally planned to ski and snowboard, but found out before arriving that the mountain had closed for the season just the day before.

Still, we decided to go anyway. The views from Grouse are spectacular, and there was always the hope of spotting one of their resident grizzly bears.

On top of Grouse, overlooking Vancouver—no hiking needed, just one stunning gondola ride. 🚠🌲🌆

What we didn’t plan for was the snow still covering the top of the mountain. It was a hot, green day at the bottom—grass and sunshine everywhere—so we hadn’t thought twice about footwear. None of the kids were wearing proper boots.

As soon as we reached the snowy trails, the complaints started. And not just small ones—full-volume, heavy-duty screams from Arielle and Élyssa, frustrated with their soaked shoes and cold feet. Meanwhile, Émilia, dressed in shorts, barely complained at all.

Lien and her fearless girl—walking hand in hand through the snow, Emilia rocking her shorts like a true mountain warrior. ❄️🩳💪💖

We had to dig deep for patience that afternoon, balancing encouragement, distraction, and just trying to laugh through it ourselves. It wasn’t the easy mountain afternoon we had envisioned—but it was very real, very loud, and very much a memory we’ll never forget.

At the top of Grouse—too many of us to see the view, but the real highlight was right here in this crew. 🏔️💛

That evening, we closed the day in the best way possible—with comfort food and a piece of my own history in Vancouver.

Lien brought us to Song Huong, a traditional Vietnamese restaurant she had introduced me to years ago when I lived here. It’s one of those places that holds a special kind of magic—the kind you can taste the moment you sit down.

The food was simple, fresh, and packed with all the flavours I remembered. The kids really enjoyed the food too, surprising us by how adventurous their taste buds could be.

A table full of stories, laughter, and shared plates at Song Huong. 🍜💛

Sitting there with our families, sharing dishes and stories, felt like a quiet homecoming. A little reminder that no matter how much time passes, some things—like good friendships, favorite meals, and shared tables—stay wonderfully the same.

Wednesday: One Last Meal Before the Road

Wednesday morning came faster than we expected—it was time to start preparing to head back toward Whistler.

Jesse’s mom had lovingly prepared sugar cookies for the kids to decorate, but with all the outdoor adventures we had packed in since Sunday, we hadn’t yet found the right moment to sit down and enjoy it.

The only window we had left was early Wednesday morning, just before Lien’s kids headed off to school.

It wasn’t the slow, cozy decorating session we might have imagined—but it was full of laughter, frosting, and that happy kind of chaos that somehow makes the best memories.

Sticky fingers, colourful sprinkles, and four very focused cookie artists. 🐣🍪🎨

Before hitting the road, we decided to squeeze in one more meal together with Lien, Jesse, and little Nolan. We met at Rocky Point and shared a classic meal at Pajo’s, famous for its fish and chips served fresh by the water.

The sun was shining, the air was crisp, and it felt like the perfect note to end on—simple food, easy conversation, and a little more time to just be together before setting off again.

Fish and chips at Rocky Point—good food, great views, and even better company. 🐟🍟🌊

As we packed up and said our goodbyes, I felt that familiar bittersweet tug—the feeling that comes when you leave behind something good. But mostly, I felt gratitude. Gratitude for old friends, new memories, and for the small, beautiful ways that life weaves past and present together when you least expect it. And luckily, this wasn’t goodbye for long—we already had plans to meet again for Mother's Day in Gibsons, just a few weeks down the road.