10 May 2026 – I expect the boots, and the overall look of things. It’s all glorious and impressive, but also to be expected. We are in a large (153 hectare), forested park in the BC Lower Mainland…

rich with Douglas Fir, Western Red Cedar and Western Hemlock soaring high overhead…

and, back at eye level, massive stumps of earlier growth…

the textured bark of current growth…

and the bright green of the newest growth of all, this season’s growing tips.

There is a creek chattering its way down-slope, to be crossed on wooden bridges, sturdy and firm despite moss on the railings…

or, for the sure-footed high-steppers in the crowd, to be crossed here and there on a log.

All normal, right?

What I do not expect is a camper trailer. Hanging in a tree.

We see two: this one is the better-built, more colourful, and — given the circular openings — more hopeful of an avian tenant.

I spot a boardwalk snaking through the trees…

and I am mildly puzzled: we are not in a bog, and there does not appear to be any need to protect the ground from hikers’ boots.

All very logical… if this were indeed a boardwalk.

It is not.

It is “a wooden feature,” says my companion, “for mountain bikers.” I believe him, because he is an MBVE (Mountain Biking Voice of Experience). Four decades of mountain biking to his credit, including many marathons both provincial and international — and with a lot of his training for all that, in this very park.

We are in Watershed Park. It is the largest park in the City of Delta, and well-laced with 11 km of trails, almost all of them multi-use — walking, jogging, biking, horseback riding. We entered at Pinewood Drive, the upper of the two sites shown on that vertical block on the right-hand side, and we are wandering along in a clock-wise loop. It takes us down to the lower tip of the triangle, and then back up and around via The Meadow, across some dedicated biking trails, and past the Gravity Bowl jump before returning us to city streets.

Because the MBVE is looking at the forest and its trails with a biker’s eye (and memories), I now experience the forest from that same perspective.

“I used to bring the grandsons here,” says the MBVE, “taught them the basics. There’s a lot of good features here for that, places where people can build skills and confidence.”

As we walk, he shows me what to look for, helps me see.

“This ladder is really good for beginners. Wide, uncomplicated, and…” — he beckons me to come take a closer look — “really sturdy. Look how well everything is connected, nailed in place.”

We pause at another wide, sturdy, ladder-type wooden feature. This one, though, is considerably more precipitous in the drop.

We are viewing it from the descent side. Nobody, he assures me, is expected to grind their way up that incline.

These wooden bike features are not all ladders. Sometimes…

they are log features. (Bumpity-bump.) And — the MBVE again invites me to check the construction — as stoutly connected as the ladders.

We pause at the Gravity Bowl jump. It was definitely NOT one for the grandsons’ level of skill, back in 2020 — but one where Grandpa got to strut his stuff. Nailed it! He grins at the memory.

He leads me to the edge of another bike-trail — the trail and its signage more proof that not everything in this park is beginner-friendly.

Big laugh from the MBVE, who points out not just the hard-ass metal lettering on the sign, but also the black biker’s helmet visor nailed to the tree above it.

I peer into that twisty gully, and cheerfully recognize a risk I will never take.

We comment as we walk on the very slightly “curated” feel to the forest. Nothing unnatural, nothing jarring. Just… an awareness of a little openness & breathing space in the canopy, of a lack of obstacles underfoot, of a lack of sharp twigs at eye level. Of very selective attention. We therefore stop with some interest, on the way out, to consult the Before & After legends in the Preventative Measures Diagram.

We nod. It feels right.

Something else is very right, as we emerge from the park — a little girl has set up a lemonade stand. A loonie a glass, and the MBVE springs for two. Yes, she made the lemonade herself (we nod approvingly, it’s not too sweet) and yes, the money is for her. “Are you saving for something?” asks the MBVE. “A bike!” she exclaims.

You know what happens next. He beams at her, and is soon deep in conversation with her proud daddy, who wants to know more about skills-building in Watershed Park. Finally she collects our empty cups, and scampers off to deposit them carefully in the complicated bear-proof litter bin.

Pretty soon we scamper off as well. It’s time for steaming bowls of Vietnamese pho, and some rich Vietnamese coffee.