Walking the Dogleg

17 April 2026 – “Dogleg” is not its name. It will not answer to Dogleg. It is the Arbutus Greenway — the 9-ish km asphalt pathway that lies on old railway land between the Fraser River and False Creek, and runs alongside Arbutus Street most of the way.

I will be walking northward and I join it well north, at West 16th (just opposite the word “transportation” on that sign), so after a short straight stretch on north I’ll follow it around the curve to the east. I’ll walk the dogleg, in other words.

Major intersections with cross-streets are well signposted and have cheerful amenities. Here at 16th…

they include bright seating, a mural on the utility box and (on the right) a metal free-library box that, at the moment, offers both Fall On Your Knees, the 1996 classic by Ann-Marie MacDonald and The Intelligence of Dogs by Stanley Coren. Four generations of Cape Breton family drama vs canine IQ, take your pick.

My pick is to start walking, and I do — though I stop again almost immediately, transfixed by this bold, emphatic, but not-quite-thought-through call for civic good behaviour.

Oh, that pesky “G”!

Several blocks on, I’m approaching both 11th Avenue and, beyond that, the mammoth subway construction project on Broadway (aka 9th Ave) that will end here at Arbutus.

Worlds collide. Construction and, I assume, a detour lie ahead of me, but meanwhile, here on my right-hand side: that white building, offering yet more public-storage space; the orange sign, advertising a personal training studio; and, see the cream building in front of that line of grey townhouses?

I detour off-piste to check it out. Its wonderful art-deco details are testimony to its construction 1932-34, and a reminder that only government was building anything in those depression years. This is the Bessborough Armoury, home to the 15th Field Artillery Regiment. (They are recruiting, BTW. Just thought I’d point that out.)

Back on-piste, but not for long. Of course we can’t walk straight through the Broadway Subway Project!

I exit one block early, and stand at the corner of 11th & Arbutus Street, pondering my next steps. At least I get to choose! See the little bulldog?

He is now being towed quite firmly north on Arbutus. A moment earlier, I overheard their street-corner contest of wills. Dog: “Whine-whine-whine-whine” [and tug-tug-tug on the leash]. Owner: “No, we are not visiting the pet store today. Come along.” [Sharp snap on the leash.] Sure enough, there is a pet store, immediately south of the intersection.

Unlike the dog, I have no need to make my case. I do not need to justify crossing Arbutus to walk one block farther west on 11th. It looks green over there, and inviting, and unknown. I follow my whim.

I bet you agree it was a whim worth following. Look how pretty it is, viewed from Yew, just one street over. Equally comfy with the next whim to cross my mind, I now turn north on Yew.

I walk on up to Broadway. I cross Broadway (safely beyond the construction project). And, still following Yew…

I discover I have wandered myself onto the official Greenway detour route.

Soon the detour ends. I am back on the Greenway and, like this walker ahead of me, almost at the dogleg curve.

‘Round the curve, and we have gardens and greenery on all sides. Here to the north, almost at Maple Street, the Kitsilano Community Garden.

Also north side, and immediately across Maple, this bulletin board (I am most taken with the encouragement to grow my own urban wheat and mill my own flour)…

which is smack against the boundary fence for Urban Farmer, an organization that has been encouraging urbanites to grow/compost/recycle for almost fifty years. Even their garden gates are a joy, constructed from rusty old rebar and implements…

and chock-full of jokes, when you get close enough.

This squirrel, for example.

I love his ingeniously bushy tail — but, above all, I love the fact that he is clutching a nut.

Broad asphalt pathway, bordered on the right by a verge of ragged grass and beyond that, a succession of garden allotments. Peering down the middle of all these allotments is a delight. The cityscape entirely falls away.

Some have no signage, some an individual name, and some — like this one — self-identify at the broader community level.

I take this photo, amused to see that the Canadian Pacific Ltd. sign behind it has been selectively painted out. Through the white paint, you can still read old black letters: private property, no trespassing.

Ohhhh, sigh. I don’t know the details, I just know they are profuse. This whole Greenway lies on old CPR railway land, purchased from CPR by the City in 2016 and subject to lengthy, tangled legal disputes both before & since. Read all about it here, in a space wonderfully titled Participedia. The analysis argues that this particular “rails to trails” project is in fact de-railed, with ambitious City plans stalled and nothing achieved but all this placeholder asphalt. Meanwhile, it claims — citing Cypress Community Garden as an example — individuals and community groups enjoy the freedom this limbo status offers them, to do their own gardening projects. Not official, not recognized, but not exactly officially unrecognized, either.

Or so I gather.

All I know for sure is that it’s messy. Still, for individuals walking/biking/rolling on through, it is also very enjoyable, albeit far from what Civic planners want to offer us.

Evidence of human love, devotion and sheer joy on all sides. Three stones carefully arranged within a concrete barrier, one of them as close as red sequins can come to a Fabergé Easter egg…

and a veritable Bee Multiplex one allotment on down. Overwinter here, please! You are safe!

And — right next to a stump covered in glorious tiny fungi, needing no human help at all — something else that needs no human help at all.

One dandelion, who has found his own perfect spring residence.

I’m well around the bend by now, almost at the end, almost at the moment when I must rejoin the city in all its grit and grime. But first, for encouragement, this message.

I don’t know the origin of this paint job, or the intended meaning of the slogan. I’m happy to take it as a reminder to enjoy wherever my feet take me.

A necessary reminder, here at 7th & Granville!

Yup, grit and grime.

But also, look, some murals to enjoy, tucked away in the alcove beneath that bridge on-ramp.

There’s more to enjoy, hoofing on up Granville: another mural, and more gardens.

The mural, Force of Nature, is by Phil Grey, part of the 2021 Vancouver Mural Festival. Since the VMF is no more, how fitting that the mural rises over a garden that, one day, will also be no more.

Signage acknowledges — proudly — that this is a temporary garden.

It is one example of such gardens throughout the city. They are organized by Community Garden Builders, a local social enterprise that works with landowners and community groups to create temporary gardens and dog parks on spaces awaiting redevelopment.

Just like all those gardens along the Arbutus Greenway!

The art of the temporary.

Grit & Greenery

26 July 2024 – It’s a bright, breezy day and my target direction is Strathcona. I’ve just skimmed a newsletter reference to a week-long Eastside Arts Festival in Strathcona Park, and that’s motivation enough. Whatever the festival does or doesn’t deliver, this old residential neighbourhood is always worth another visit.

I set myself the mild challenge of getting there without walking north on Main Street. Main is a diverting parade of small shops farther south, but from here north it becomes a noisy downtown artery. My plan calls for a clever N/E zigzag — but that’s the beauty of feet! They sure can zigzag.

So down Scotia I go, with the now-sewered creek beneath my feet that once fed the now-infilled last stretch of False Creek. Left turn onto East 1st Avenue, with its contribution to new-build grit, part of the neighbourhood transformation…

and a right-turn onto Industrial Avenue.

Confession: this requires a quick ricochet off Main Street, where 1st and Industrial almost meet, but surely I can be forgiven that hairpin turn?

More grit, as I head north among the terminals and warehouses of False Creek Flats. There’s new-build activity here at well, with high-tech moving in, but that’s mostly farther east. This part, close to Main Street, is still yer actual old-fashioned rust & rolling wheels kind of grit.

But I like it, just as it is, and today it delivers me nicely from any more connection with Main Street. All I have to do is backtrack east to Station Street, then north to Terminal and across Terminal to the building that explains why Station and Terminal streets bear these names:

Pacific Central train station.

It’s more than 100 years old and still in use, with today’s power-washing just part of the regular TLC. This highly functional Old Build will soon be joined by that New Build lurking in the background — the new St. Paul’s Hospital complex, now under construction and due to open in 2027.

My avoid-Main-Street route takes me east on National Avenue, currently reduced to a narrow footpath bordering the hospital construction site. I gawk as I walk.

The area swarms with workers…

a reminder that, for all the machinery and high-tech of our age, every work site still depends on human effort and skill.

I have escaped Main Street!

I am now safely east, just in behind the construction site, where I can cut north through Trillium Park and enjoy my first fix of major greenery. There indeed is St. Paul’s, rising in the background, but here in the foreground…

we have green fields. Green fields both sides of this pathway, with kiddies on each side, busy learning the fundamentals of soccer.

This is all fine, but I keep walking because just to the north lies Prior Street, and that will take me into Strathcona neighbourhood. And then Strathcona Park! And then the arts festival!

A vintage wooden Strathcona house sits right smack on the corner at Prior and Jackson. It is much the worse for wear.

That’s also part of the story of this area — home to Coast Salish First Nations for millennia, and then, with the 1865 opening of the Hasting Lumber Mill, increasingly home to waves of working-class immigrants. The whole area prospered, declined, and is now in that tenuous urban mix of restoration, renewal, rebirth and inevitably destruction as well.

I walk east on Prior. Strathcona Park will be just ahead of me, but before I can quite fix on its location, I am diverted by the sight of an elderly couple with an exuberant grandchild emerging from a path in the woods to my right. I exchange grave nods with the couple, finger-wiggles with the child, and step onto the path they have just left.

Well. Look at this.

It’s just one tiny corner of a community garden, bursting with mid-summer proof of its gardeners’ devotion. I weave between beds, find the Garden’s tool shed and step close to read its signage. I’m admiring the trilingualism of it all…

when the door opens and I get to meet one of those gardeners. She has been a Strathcona Community Garden volunteer for ages, she says, and she’s not going to let a little thing like knee replacement surgery (points to the scar) keep her away.

Do I know about the Cottonwood Community Garden? she asks. No, I do not. Most people don’t, she says, because it’s so tucked away, but it’s amazing and you should go look at it. Where is it? I ask.

She leads me back to the edge of the Strathcona Garden and points the way: turn right here, then left there, along that line of trees, then keep looking to the right.

So I do.

As I walk, I realize I am now in one corner of Strathcona Park. Damned if I can see any sign of an arts festival. And damned if I care, because finding Cottonwood seems so much more interesting.

Right; then left; then keep looking right, into the trees. Oh yes. Signs of gardening in there.

And a sign very politely telling me to keep out. It explains this particular section is home to sacred medicinal plants, and asks anybody not involved in their care and rituals please to remain outside the fence.

An adjacent sign welcomes me in.

Even though invited to come on in, I feel shy about intruding. I stick to the external foot paths, and peer over fences as I go.

This string of garden plots lies in quite a narrow ribbon of land between Strathcona Park to the north and Malkin Avenue to the south. Looking south, I can see the tops of buildings, one of them marked Discovery Organics and, right here in front of me, the top of a mural marked Produce Row.

Framed by a gaudy arbutus tree on the right and a discreet birch tree on the left, my pathway disappears back into the woods…

and then, soon after, leads me out onto more open ground. Here the garden beds lie right next to the Strathcona Park playing fields.

I meet another gardener — this one a relative newbie, someone who comes from West Vancouver for the pleasure of digging in her very own patch of soil. She offers me a bag of lettuce. I explain I have so much fresh produce right now it would probably spoil. “Me too,” she sighs.

I wave good-bye and then stop at a park map, to get my bearings. Since I am dog-free as well as lettuce-free, the map’s primary purpose is irrelevant, but its coordinates interest me a lot.

Later online research tells me even more, makes these two gardens even more impressive — and suggests thy are under threat.

According to the Strathcona Community Gardens Society, which manages them, both Strathcona and Cottonwood gardens began through local activism: Strathcona on an unofficial dump site in 1985, winning a 25-year lease from the Park Department in 2005; and Cottonwood on an industrial waste site in 1991, still apparently without any legal status. Depending on what happens next to Malkin Avenue — perhaps expansion, to compensate for planned viaduct demolition — both Produce Row (the string of fresh food wholesalers on Malkin) and the adjacent garden might be bulldozed. (I can’t find dated, documented, recent data on this, hence my careful language.)

I don’t yet know all this, as I again walk north.

I am still kinda-sorta wondering about the arts festival, but I am easily distracted — and more distraction is soon on offer.

Who could resist Strathcona Linear Park? It leads me alongside Hawks Avenue, and splashes mid-summer foliage all over me, including this magnificent Mimosa grandiflora (thank you Pooker, for the ID).

Right under that pink splendour, some turquoise chalk on the sidewalk. “Free…” it begins, and I wonder which political cause is about to claim my attention.

Ahhh! I look around hopefully.

No cupcakes in sight. And still no arts festival, either. By now I totally don’t care.

I stick with the Linear Park, admire the False Creek mosaic as we cross the bike path at Union Street…

and walk one more block that now borders MacLean Park. It takes me right to where I next want to be: on the N/W corner of Keefer and Hawks, tucked up with some lunch…

in the Wilder Snail café, with its giant snail as a ceiling ornament.

It is finally time to head west, to start looping toward home.

Past the MacLean Park notice board at Keefer & Heatley, promoting everything from World Hepatitis Day (“free testing”) to evenings at the Dream Punk Piano Lounge, and then a quick detour across the street.

To view an entire residential community, right there on a single massive tree stump.

(Well, what would you call it?)

On west along Keefer to Princess, where I pause for another of the City’s sidewalk mosaics.

Nobody could accuse this mural of being happy-face PR! Look at that power shovel, knocking the end home to smithereens.

Happily, as I carry on west, I pass still-standing vintage homes. Including this one near Princess Avenue…

protected by its hedge of giant guardian Gunnera.

Once i cross Gore Street, I have changed worlds. I have passed from Strathcona into Chinatown.

I walk with that world for a while, then hop onto a Main Street bus, and go home.

Where, finally, I read the Eastside Arts Festival promotion more carefully.

And discover that (a) it consists of pop-up events at scattered times in scattered locations and, (b), this particular day, the only event is an evening urban-drawing workshop being hosted in a local brewery.

Good thing I didn’t go there solely for the art.

.

The Anatomy of Awesome

4 April 2024 – How delightful, when an abstract noun — flung around so casually as to be meaningless — is given specific physical presence.

“Awesome,” it turns out, inhabits precisely 0.09 Ha of space at East 15th Av & Sophia Street, in Vancouver’s Mount Pleasant neighbourhood.

See? Spelled out on the fence that separates the 20 plots of Tea Swamp Community Garden from Tea Swamp Park itself.

And if you think I’m making up that name… I’m not.

And if you think some of the gardeners made up that name… they didn’t.

It’s official.

It commemorates the Labrador Tea plants that used to thrive in the bogs that once covered this area. It also helps explain buckled road surfaces and wonky house angles that are still a feature of the local urbanscape.

Wonky, and tiny, and pretty basic in amenities, but much-loved.

Winter-battered Buddhist prayer flags adorn the fence…

bright new tassels encircle a tree…

the street-corner arbour hasn’t yet leafed out, but its Little Free Library kiosk is full of books…

and a mum relaxes on a bench while her toddler whoops around the admittedly modest playground.

More community action next to the park, where the traffic circle is being prepped for summer by its volunteer gardener (under the City’s Green Streets Program).

A work in progress, but…

it already has its very own Blue Butterfly.

  • WALKING… & SEEING

    "Traveller, there is no path. Paths are made by walking" -- Antonio Machado (1875-1939)

    "The voyage of discovery is not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes" -- Marcel Proust (1871-1922)

    "A city is a language, a repository of possibilities, and walking is the act of speaking that language, of selecting from those possibilities" -- Rebecca Solnit, "Wanderlust: A History of Walking"

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