Last Saturday, I went into the heart of Vancouver for the first time. I’m not very interested in shopping or museums, so after a few errands I set my sights on famous Stanley Park, which borders the downtown area.

I drove in from the southeast and crossed through the entire metro area to get to the park, which occupies a peninsula on the northwestern tip of the island. I drove through what I at first assumed was Chinatown, then through an actual Chinatown which made the previous Chinatown look like Kansas City, then into the shopping district after an unfortunate missed turn which took me past a mission and several dozen homeless people lounging on the sidewalk. Vancouver has a notoriously controversial supervised injection program, which has obtained an exemption from federal drug laws to offer a clean and staffed drug injection site. I’m betting the site was somewhere in that area.

The city has a smalltown feel - belying its growing population - which is mainly emitted by an obvious effort to cater to pedestrian traffic and mass transit at the expense of vehicles. There’s no equivalent of Atlanta’s spaghetti junction, indeed, even the highway - I almost said interstate, but that term doesn’t work in Canada - is peppered with stoplights all the way through town. The issue is exacerbated by the disturbingly common phenomenon of parked cars in the right lanes of the streets, even on major thoroughfares. This, coupled with the absence of any left turn lanes, results in a six-lane highway reduced to one non-stationary lane flowing each way instead of three. However, I’m sure the city planners and shopkeepers were happy with the result: crowds of window-shoppers and tourists strolling unhurriedly along the sidewalks, grasping shopping bags and stopping to eyeball each streetside restaurant’s posted dinner menu.

The 1,000 acre Stanley Park is bordered on three sides by water, with a large suspension bridge on the north side leading to North Vancouver and Lynn Canyon Park, which I had visited the previous weekend. The park is completely encircled by a concrete walkway, which, it being a Saturday, was blanketed by walkers, joggers, bikers, roller-bladers, baby strollers, and dogs. The interior of the park was heavily wooded, with meandering trails, most of them empty.

I walked for a few miles on the walkway next to the water and passed a beach. It was in the 70s and sunny and a few brave souls stood in knee-high water, but most of the beachgoers lounged on the sand under hats and sunglasses.

^ The walkway circumferencing the park, and the bridge crossing north.

^ On a hill, looking down at the beach. Behind me there was a large grass lawn and a restaurant, each hosting a different wedding reception in the beautiful Saturday-afternoon sunlight. I didn’t see an open bar. I moved on.

^ A seal bobbed on the waves and I took this picture just before it slipped under the surface for good.

^ If you think jet-skiiing over the wake of a ski boat is fun, try it behind a tanker.

^ Leaving the park via Beach Avenue, which, surprisingly, has a beach. It seemed livelier than the relaxed one in the park.

^ Recrossing the southern bridge at dusk.