In this living cultural landscape, each gesture reflects a sustained, reciprocal relationship with the land and its beings, a cultural community that can’t be understood from the vantage point of a city. It was an energy that could only exist in a place like this, carried through generations. It’s not just seen, it’s felt. It vibrates through the soil, moves through the water and lives inside every being that grows from it, takes from and gives to this land.

This trip was destined to be magical, as any reunion between close sisters always is. We are Canadian sisters and business partners who live across the world from each other. As an environmental journalist living in Los Angeles, Aliya Jasmine visited Klahoose in the Fall of 2023 when she was pregnant for the first time, and the bears on this land taught her the first lessons of motherhood. Years later, we get to come back together and do research for our environmentally-focused production company, Earth Tones. And a new perspective, as Aliza, based in the South of France, is not only a first-time visitor to Klahoose, but also a Landscape Architect and PhD student who focuses on cultural heritage. It was a long journey for her to get to this little piece of land, but experiencing this trip through her eyes will be special, considering Klahoose is an award-winning luxury eco-lodge that is 100 per cent indigenous owned and operated.

Ivan reminds us that encountering wildlife here is not a matter of luck or guarantee, but rather a matter of relationship. “Set your intention,” he says. “Call out to them. Maybe they’ll show themselves, but we aren’t owed a sighting.”

Across many Indigenous teachings, animals are considered kin, not attractions. They appear when they choose to, not when summoned. At Klahoose, this perspective shapes every encounter, not as a restriction, but as an invitation to slow down, observe and approach the natural world with humility rather than control or expectation. As we made our way up the Inlet, everyone spread out around the boat. We held our breath over and over, for hours, searching the shorelines for bears, eyes squinting, scanning the horizon for whales. And although we were disappointed not to have a huge sighting, the stillness of searching for something so sacred, without screens or phones or social media or news feeds, was fulfilling in a way none of us could anticipate. It wasn’t boring, it was stillness, mindfulness, simply being in the now. And the minute we would see a whale, all the phones would come out, so we found ourselves cherishing the waiting. In a way we never anticipated.

We will ultimately leave with no whale selfies, no bear highlight reels—only memories of shared breath, watchful stillness and the sense that what we truly witnessed was the humility of being within, not above, the natural world. One could argue that this is more valuable than an epic selfie, perhaps not in the number of likes on Instagram, but in a merit that is much harder to quantify.

From the boat, we spot twisting arbutus trees clinging to rocky inlets, standing tall like guardians of the shoreline. On land, we encounter yew trees, used for medicine and bow-making and walk beneath Douglas fir, maple and hemlock, draped in moss and “old man’s beard.”

We taste spruce tips in fresh bread prepared by chefs Jen and Mike Levy, alongside myosotis (colloquially known as forget-me-nots), salal, lavender and dandelion flowers. Even the food being served on our plates during the resort’s elevated family-style dining experience is part of the forest’s voice.

What we once might have called foraged ingredients, Klahoose reveals as inherited knowledge—flavours rooted in memory and drawn from the Earth’s quiet abundance. Even the act of eating becomes a form of listening, a reminder that the forest doesn’t just feed the table—it speaks.