We are heading to Duncan at the north sore of Cowichan Lake. Again we are passing rain forest fragments that appear like magic forest. Giant trees from prehistoric times rise up at a dizzy height and darken the sky. Stems and leaves are dark from rain and wetness, water drops from the leaves. The ground is covered with ferns that cope with the little residual light. A wood couldnt appear more mystical.
We are expected by Branca and Anton in Duncan, Mikes parents. Tony makes his own wine, white and red, and some schnapps. I battle my way through the entire range and have to say: not bad, not bad!