The expression “road trip” now has a whole new meaning for me. Once upon a time, in the Before Days, a road trip meant a trip to Tofino on the west coast, or down to Victoria, or by ferry across to the mainland to Vancouver or Whistler or the Sunshine Coast or even into the interior to the Okanagan. Not anymore. Sigh. Nowadays, a road trip is more likely to mean taking a car full of yard waste bags to the dump, 15 minutes away. This now counts as an exciting day’s outing.

In the past year, I can count on one hand the times we’ve actually left our community. In the winter, when cabin fever finally pushed us out of the crib and into the car, we drove up the coast to Courtenay (a 40 minute drive) for a daring raid on Staples to buy printer ink. The first time we did this we pre-ordered and used curbside pickup. The second time, we lived dangerously (ha) and masked up (double) and actually went inside because let’s face it, that warehouse-sized big box office supply store never has anyone in it; you could fire a cannon down the aisles and not hit a single person.

Once upon a time a trip to Courtenay would likely have included a walk along the river or a trail hike, lunch in one of our favourite restaurants (some have now permanently closed), a stroll up the main street, walking in and out of the shops, and browsing in the independent bookstore. These trips for printer ink were an excuse of course, as you can certainly order online; an excuse to get out of the house and neighbourhood and take in that beautiful drive up the coast. It raised the spirits to see the sun shining on the ocean and the snow, bright on the tops of the island mountains and across the Strait on the mainland coastal range. From the passenger seat I got to take a good look at other details – roadside shrines where accidents had occurred, new construction since I was last there, a roadside restaurant now closed and a new outdoor food truck on the side of the road open for business.

What else is missing along this familiar drive? For many years the sea lions used to hang out in winter on a raft off the dock at Fanny Bay on Baynes Sound opposite Denman Island. They are gone. I haven’t seen them for several years now and their disappearance seems to coincide with the big increase in shellfish farms along the Sound. Hmmm. Now how does one get a bunch of massive sea mammals to move their winter hangout so as not to interfere with the human sea farms?

There seemed to be some signs of life at the Qualicum scallop farm that closed some years ago when the scallop crop failed, probably because of warmer water along the coasts of Washington State and lower and mid Vancouver Island from climate change. They lost it all and I heard at the time that they were going to have to bring in a different scallop species to raise instead but that was going to take years to get that established and to start producing for market again. There appear to be a few new large tank buildings now that weren’t there before, so maybe.

There was something else I noticed from my window. Something new. In two different places, hanging from tree branches beside the road, were bright red dresses, swaying in the breeze. I had never seen this before but I knew what it was.

These symbolize and are meant to raise awareness of the ongoing issue of the thousands of missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls across Canada.

Originally the red dresses were part of 2010 Winnipeg art installation by Metis artist Jamie Black to honour indigenous women and girls who were lost to violent crimes. Since then the symbol has spread to communities and areas across the country. It has now reached Vancouver Island where someone has undertaken to have the dresses placed along the highway from the top of the island in Port Hardy down to the south in Victoria. Others have joined the project and I have now seen them on other roads as well. Catching that glimpse of red as you drive by, knowing that it represents a daughter/mother/aunt/sister and all those around her, is a very powerful image.

Then, this past week, ugliness once again raised its head. Not far from here, near Ladysmith, the image was obviously too powerful for the two men who were filmed along the side of the highway, removing several red dresses hanging from the trees and tossing them like garbage on the ground (as was the fate of many of the women), then turning and running away.

Stephanie Rivers Elickus of Campbell River, who has been a major force in the Red Dress Project on Vancouver Island, says that the dresses are a symbol “to call spirits home in our culture, to call missing women home.” She personally has suffered three immediate losses associated with missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls and vows to continue her project to honour those who are gone. This desecration serves to re-break so many hearts that have already been so badly wounded from their losses.

How many times can a heart be broken?