We followed Alice down the rabbit’s hole yesterday morning. The minor tremors of entering a land filled with castles and wizards quickly gave way to a lush mountainside filled with timeless kitsch.
We had entered the Enchanted Forest (spoken in James Earl Jones’ voice with a little thunderclap to follow).
This, my dear friends, is an actual real place. You may be thinking putt-putt golf or roadside giftshop. Instead, think two sculptors in love with fairytales who lost their minds a bit and built an entire Mother Gooseian world complete with kid-sized villages, 4-story tree houses occupied by a family of gnomes and, of course, the yellow-brick road.
We’d spotted it briefly on the drive last year – just a few miles short of Revelstoke, BC – and swore that any future trek in the vicinity would require a lengthy visit.
The kids, well, they needed something right at their level. Something that made them gasp with excitement after 10 days in the car.
Well, if the castle with the dragon at the entrance didn’t do that, the fairies leading the way into this journey of imagination and fantasy and markedly odd recreations of children’s fairy tales left them wide-eyed and dancing on the quaint, story-lined pathways.
Ken and I, well, we totally cop to having spent most of our time admiring the vintage goodness. While the kids wandered into and out of the fully-furnished homes of the Three Little Pigs, Three Little Bears, Old Mother Hubbard and Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, we felt our hearts soften amongst the ferns and trillium of the every-familiar British Columbian forest.
After climbing to the top of cedars, staring down giants and feeding the rainbow trout, we slipped back through the rabbit hole to find our friend Alice and her crew at the end.
They wished us well and sent us on our way, closer and closer to the final stop on this enchanted journey.