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hot/cold spas in B.C., but this is easily the most beautiful. Watching the light dance through the trees through the wall-to-wall window of the wood-fired sauna as you sweat your cares away feels both effortless and luxurious. DAY THREE The rays of sun filtering through the yoga dome during Friday morning's breathwork and meditation are downright ethereal. The class, taught by instructor Cat, is similar in difficulty (movement-wise, at least) to yesterday's. During a particularly bendy position—lizard—Cat points out that it isn't about the poses, and that the ability to get your head closer to the mat doesn't necessarily mean you are more enlightened. My head, miles from the mat, feels very enlightened—in part because I've let go of the belief that my analytical with a robust menu; we popped in to try the very decadent and often sold-out alfajor (a.k.a. dulche de leche sandwich cookie). Up the hill in Artisan Square, Artisan Eats Café is a community hub for locals—if you ask aloud how yesterday's soup was, odds are another customer will answer. DRINK Across the street from Nectar Yoga Retreat is Bowen Cider House, a cidery serving family recipes in rustic, warm digs. The outdoor patio is a summer hot spot, but they recently opened an indoor lounge, too. On the day we visited, the lounge smelled like apple pie, an amaz- ing sensory teaser for the drinks (as were the old-school tractor and harvest videos projected on a loop). My favourite was the semi-dry Estate Blend, my husband's was the semi-sweet Ugly Apples Gala. Here, cider flows through the food, too: the Cider House soup that day was a twist on French onion made with Granny Cowan's cider, which is also used to braise the veggies atop the bratwurst (cider and hot dogs are an underrated combo). BIKE Bowen eBikes CEO Brendan Robertson will give you a lock, but don't fret about it too much—this island biz hasn't had a theft in six years of operation. I can't be convinced that there's any better way to navigate Bowen than on an e-bike: electric assist makes the steep hills a breeze, and you're fully immersed in the natural beauty of the island. We cycle all the way to the opposite end, which takes less than an hour, ditching our bikes at Collingwood Lane Park and walking the idyllic cliffside path to the Bowen Island Whale Trail site. We see no whales, but several dogs gallop along the beach. And, sure enough, as we trudge up from our hike, the bikes are waiting to take us back. If screaming with joy as you coast downhill past donkey-dotted acreages is wrong, I don't want to be right. Bowen Island To-Dos B ri n g t h e H eat S u rro u n d e d by lu s h fo re st , M ist Th e rm a l S a n ctu a r y 's p rivate h ot /c o l d th e ra py p o d s c a n fit u p to fo u r p e o p l e a n d in c lu d e ac c e s s to a wo o d fire s au n a , a luxe o utd o o r s h owe r, a c o l d p lu n g e , a wa rm s o a k in g tu b a n d a n o ut- d o o r s e atin g a re a w ith a fire p it . EAT Bowen's dining scene is small but mighty. Doc Morgan's (named after a barber, not a doctor) in Snug Cove goes full nautical with sailing paraphernalia and a menu featuring fresh oysters, calamari, poke and prawns. We got the Pacific rock cod fish and chips, the ultimate seaside comfort food. The Snug Café a few doors down is a bustling coffeehouse brain makes me incompatible with this space, and in part because I've noticed that my husband is wearing a pair of my socks, solving a months-long mystery. Twisted up to my maximum, I breathe deeply and train my gaze on his left sole, where the soft cotton of my sock heel is firmly stretched across his foot's arch. Instead of feeling annoyed, I feel satisfied. Peaceful, even. It's not traditional enlightenment, but it's something. I carry that vibe through our breakfast of golden milk yogurt (a colour achieved by mixing the yogurt up with turmeric, ginger, cinnamon and honey), granola, fruit and a scone. Lynne appears again to draw a card from an oracle deck and read it aloud for all of us to contemplate and carry with us beyond checkout time. It's the Messenger. I know that cards like this can be interpreted many ways, but it feels extra serendipi- tous for me: after all, as a writer, sharing this story is part of why I'm here in the first place. That, and to relax, recharge and look inward—to immerse myself in a practice and a community that's foreign to me, to challenge my initial judgements. And to fig- ure out where all my socks went. saunas becomes apparent. Each one looks like a little house cantilevered over the lush cliffside. Once inside our dedicated pod (called "Forest"), we shower using the dreamy eucalyptus-scented prod- ucts and settle in to the contrast therapy. Chris does the recommended cycle of 15 minutes of sauna followed by one minute of icy plunge; I do less of both in the spirit of listening to my body and what it needs. I've been to quite a few Nordic-inspired 63 B C B U S I N E S S . C A J U N E 2 0 2 5 To p, c l o c k w i s e : J e a n i e O w, C h r i s Gir a r d , C a s a n d r a B u t l e r C o ll e c t i v e ; b o t t o m f r o m l e f t t o r i g h t : C h r i s Gir a r d ( 2 ) , C a s s i e's C o m p a s s

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