I went to Salt Spring Island with my daughter over the weekend and the weather forecast said it would rain heavily. The ferry was cancelled. We debated going back but decided to take the risk. When the boat finally left the dock, it felt like a small victory.
After docking in Long Harbor we drove along the winding road to the southern tip of the island. The sky was tin-grey. Trees swayed on either side, their leaves a blur of gold and tawny. “It feels like an old British movie,” Sasha said, watching the mist curl in the forest. Fall in Salt Springs has a cinematic feel: wild, unpredictable, and quieter than summer.
Arriving at the Holy Land of Health
At the end of the driveway, a gate marks the entrance to Lightwater Bay. We opened it and closed it behind us, and later learned that it keeps deer out; otherwise, they would eat the vegetables and herbs grown on the hotel's farm, which serves breakfast to guests on site.
When I stepped into Lightwater, there was a healthy smell in the air. Fresh and natural, as if rising from the earth. It might have wafted in from the spa below, with the smell of eucalyptus and other elixirs. The space is so calm yet full of life.
The fire in the huge atrium brought warmth to our cold journey. The fir floors of the ancient forest complement the gray stone around the fireplace, softened by the soft blues of the furniture and the sparkling sea seen through the tall windows overlooking the bay. A wide staircase leads to the guest rooms upstairs and wellness space downstairs. The steps are strong, linear, almost masculine and designed in an open space style. Stained glass windows salvaged from an old Vancouver house cast soft colors on the floor. Sasha looked around and whispered, “It feels like God himself created it.”
I found myself lowering my voice without thinking.
Greg, who co-founded Lightwater Cove with his wife Monica, designed and funded the project himself. He is not an architect, but he designed the buildings and hardscape after years of restoring heritage homes and studying the way structures interact with light. “Light, water and silence,” he said, “are the real architects here.”
In the winter, the property receives more sunlight than the rest of the island because it faces the ocean to the south, Greg said. “You can see the Olympic Peninsula, glaciers and ice fields. That's why we call it Qingshui Bay. The light reflected from the water has a healing effect. “
restored building
The restaurant’s stone niche, built from the same reclaimed stone used throughout Lightwater Cove, houses works by Salt Spring artists. Nearly 100 trucks were brought to the site and walls, pathways and fireplaces were handcrafted throughout the site.
Our room, like the rest of the hotel, had a rich sense of simplicity. The bed is covered with a linen duvet in the subtlest shade of winter blue, with a natural latex mattress and organic cotton sheets. The effect is soft, clean and unadorned. No TV, no phone, no room service. Instead there was scenery, silence and the sound of rain.
I slept deeply, waking up to the hypnotic trickle of water, choosing to stare at the large, round window instead of my phone. No blind tugging, I wake up on a natural schedule. Thankfully, the mornings are dark this time of year. The windows feel like those on a ship, perfectly framing the water beyond.
weather as teacher
We spent the entire weekend walking between heavy and light rain showers. The path winds through lavender and ponds, surrounded by low stone walls that look like they grew there naturally. Greg once described the property as “a living, breathing spaceship,” sustained by groundwater flowing through ponds and waterfalls. “Guests often say they feel lighter after a few days,” he says. I understand what he means. Solid stone walls provide a sense of comfort, surrounded by buildings designed to withstand the elements.
That night, as the wind picked up, I lay in bed and listened. The fire continued to crackle steadily below. I felt safe, not just physically, but on a deeper level, as if Lightwater itself had absorbed the storm for me.
Autumn’s Quiet Reward
Warmth meets wildness in the cedar sauna at Lightwater Cove. As co-founder Greg says, “Light, water and silence. They are the real architects here.”
By Sunday, the rain had turned to drizzle. Outside, raindrops rippled on the surface of the covered outdoor pool, and steam billowed from the hot tub next to it. The glass end of the sauna overlooks the sea and seems to hold the gray light of the day like a lantern. Watching the rain hit the windows feels almost symbolic, perhaps about renewal, about being cleansed.
Later we walked to the edge of the estate where the forest meets the sea. The waves crashed against the rocks in a slow rhythm, and the light returned, giving the water a silvery glow.
Fall is probably the best time to visit Salt Springs. Trails and art galleries remain open, but there is a change of pace. There was time to notice the colors, the mist, the sound of rain hitting the cedars. In Lightwater Sound, this slowdown feels intentional.
Greg and Monica are planning future wellness retreats and expanding the farm, but the place already feels complete. “I wanted to build something that would last hundreds of years,” he told me. “Most of the houses around here are built too close to the water. I wanted this house to hear the sound of the land.”
As we packed up to leave, Sasha looked out the window at the bay and said, “It's so beautiful, it's almost unreal.”
Natasha Netschay runs a PR and communications agency in Vancouver and teaches writing courses at SFU. She also writes wellness articles for travel, yoga, and mental health media.
Lightwater Cove Resort is a valued partner of Wellness Travel BC. To learn more about them, visit https://wellnesstravelbc.com/partners/lightwater-cove/.
