Whether you are a visitor to Victoria, British Columbia or are fortunate enough to live here, certain attractions of this colonial outpost are must-see-must-do. You must take your Gravol and risk the whitecaps of Juan de Fuca to see the whales. You must sip tea at the Empress. You most certainly must hoist a brew or two at one of the many authentic pubs; warm beer and all.
This curious component of the Victoria experience captures a unique aspect of the Island character; one separate from the pristine gardens and meticulously restored Morris Minors. Surrounded by a speedway and motocross track, a miniature golf course, batting cages and an ice-cream parlour, AFRVP is two-thirds residents who are only two-thirds from planet Earth. The rest are passing through more quickly than planned.
How does one wind up living in a thirty-year-old Triple E with a dog named Tarzan? By choice? By circumstance? By mistake or a bad bet? Long before the slide-out slipped into vogue, folks around here found their own way of transforming two-hundred square feet into Trump Towers. Here in shed city, the space program lives on, launching extraordinary solutions to stashing away everything from stolen lawn gnomes to relatives on the run.
Most of the wheels here have not turned in a long time. Rotten plywood sits covered by tarps on tires flatter than the local economy. The good thing is that you don’t have to have wheels to roll with this crowd. A groundsheet will do and tents glow in the night alongside motorhomes with names like Odyssey and Outback. It’s the perfect democracy even if it is a little damp at times.
I’m going to let you in on the big secret: Butchart Gardens is just a bunch of flowers! The real action is hooked up with electric and water at number 73. If you hurry, you can get there in time to help with pump-out.