grandma capilano
It is not called a rainforest for nothing. It rained when we visited it, but I didn’t care. Wispy clouds of fog weaved through the trees, giving the quiet forest an almost ghostly appearance.
Some of the trees in Capilano Park are hundreds of years old, if that doesn’t give one pause, nothing will. I paid my respects to Grandma Capilano, the dean, flaunting the respectable age of approximately eight hundred years. He, she, it is a Douglas Fir, and just to put things in perspective about what this age represents, a contemporary of the Magna Carta. If only we were trees!
Capilano Park hosts three of the most common species of trees in the Pacific temperate rainforest: the Douglas fir, the red cedar and the western hemlock.
Here and there thick and luxurious moss covers bare branches in apple green velvet.
The rain fell steadily, the kind of rain that lasts for days, not hours, but when you are under the dense tree canopy, very little of it manages to push through all the way to the ground, so we walked around the park in diffuse, surprisingly warm mist, that coated everything – the trees, the ferns, the rocks around the pond, the gravely path and us.
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