Two Months In: Life at the Beach Posted on 22 July 202522 July 2025 by Kate Campbell I can hardly believe it’s been almost two months since we moved into our dream beach house. In some ways, it feels like we’ve only just arrived. In other ways, it feels like we’ve lived a thousand lifetimes since crossing the threshold for the very first time. Moving with a one-year-old is a different kind of endurance challenge and if we ever do this again (and I sincerely hope we don’t anytime soon), we are 100% hiring movers. Doing it ourselves and working during nap times, snack breaks, bedtime routines, and while trying to keep a crawling toddler from scaling furniture, felt borderline impossible. Every night, Matt and I would collapse onto whatever surface was closest and high-five each other just for surviving another day (if we had the energy). Despite the chaos, we were riding the high of new homeownership. That is, until we left the country. Just two weeks after moving in, we packed our bags (again!) and headed off to the UK for a testimonial hockey game. For those who don’t know, a testimonial is a special match played in honour of a player who’s dedicated ten years to their team. This one was for Joey, a Cardiff Devil and one of Matt’s former teammates. Matt was invited to play, and for him, it was more than just lacing up his skates again, it was a homecoming and a way to really close out his career because his last season had been quashed by the pandemic. I had never seen Matt play professionally before. We met after he retired. So watching him take the ice, suited up with his old teammates, was emotional in the best way. He also wanted Griffin to be there — to see his dad in action, even if he won’t remember it. (Luckily, we’ve got the photos and videos to prove it happened!) We turned the trip into a whirlwind mini-tour. We visited a dear friend of mine in the Cotswolds, soaked in the stunning countryside, and then spent a few days in London. But let me tell you — travelling internationally with a one-year-old during a heat wave is not for the faint of heart. Between the 2-hour ferry, 9.5-hour flight and a 3-hour drive to Cardiff… we were absolutely running on fumes. I swear, somewhere over the Atlantic, Griffin had a full-blown existential crisis. We all did. When we got home, we were exhausted. Jet-lagged. Emotionally tapped. And, of course…the moving process was still not done. Because, surprise! While we were away, we finalized the private sale of our old house in Nanaimo. Which meant more U-Haul trips, more heavy lifting, and more of the good ol’ “just toss it in the garage and we’ll deal with it later” game plan. Our new house looked like the inside of a storage unit for weeks. There were days I couldn’t find a single pair of matching socks or a coffee mug. Still, we kept inching forward, one box at a time. And here’s the thing no one prepares you for: moving really shines a harsh spotlight on how much stuff you own. Like, how? How did we accumulate so many things? Matt spent most of his adult life living out of suitcases while traveling the world for hockey. He never really put down roots for long enough to gather clutter. And when I moved across the country nearly five years ago, I did a massive purge. I sold or gave away almost everything that didn’t fit in the back of my truck and I only really shipped my tools out here (because this girl could never part from her tools!). So where did all this stuff come from? We kept finding boxes labeled with things like “cables,” “random decor,” or my personal favourite: “probably junk.” I found two crockpots. TWO. We are a family of three humans — we do not need two crockpots. Only in the past few weeks have we started to feel a shift from surviving to settling. Little routines are forming. We’re starting to see the floor again. Griffin’s toys have found semi-permanent homes (until he relocates them). The boxes are slowly disappearing. But even in the chaos, one feeling has stayed constant: awe. Every single day, one of us says it: “Can you believe we live here?” Because the magic of this place? It’s not just in the view. It’s in the way it showed up for us the moment we arrived. We got possession at 3:30 p.m. on a sunny afternoon. We pulled up, unloaded the truck just enough to find the essentials, and made a beeline to the water. That’s when we saw them: at least twenty bald eagles lining the shoreline. Perched quietly, watching us. Welcoming us. We stood there in silence, completely mesmerized. Later that evening, after Griffin had gone to bed, Matt and I sat outside on our deck. Champagne in hand, gifted by our realtor, watching the sky begin to turn that soft golden-pink you only get near the ocean. And then I saw it. A movement in the water. Far out. Big. “No way,” I whispered and pointed. Then Matt saw it too. Humpback whales. Breaching. Putting on a full performance. Right in front of us. Right there. In the five years I’ve lived on Vancouver Island, I’ve only seen whales breach like that once before. And here they were, on our very first night. In our very own back yard. As if that wasn’t enough, the sky began to shift again. What we thought at first was light pollution turned into something far more magical: the northern lights. Bald eagles. Breaching whales. The aurora borealis. On our first night in our new home. It felt like nature itself was wrapping us in a warm, wild welcome. Like the universe was saying, “You’re in the right place.” And in that moment, I felt my Dad with me. He would’ve loved this house. This view. This feeling. He would’ve wandered around with Griffin on his hip, pointing at his favourite trees and building us our first beach fire (which he would have tended to all night). He would’ve poured us each a glass of wine and said, “Well, Katie — this is UNNNN-believable.” I sat out on the deck long after Matt had gone to bed. Staring up at the sky. Listening to the quiet. Feeling the ache of grief and the warmth of love all at once. I miss him. I always will. But in that moment, I felt him. His energy. His joy. His pride. He’s here. In the trees. In the waves. In the light. This house needs work. A lot of it. We’re still living in the mess. Still trying to figure out where everything goes, how to manage renovations around toddler naps, and how to give ourselves grace on the days it all feels too big. But this is home. And we are exactly where we’re meant to be. 2
I Found the One: Our Dream Oceanfront Fixer-Upper Posted on 2 May 20252 May 2025 by Kate Campbell You know those moments where your gut just knows before your head catches up? That was me, scrolling through house listings on a random weekend, half-searching and half-dreaming (as always!). Matt walked into the room mid-scroll and without even thinking, I looked up and said: “I think I found the one.” Turns out, I actually did. Ever since I uprooted my life in Ontario to relocate on Vancouver Island four years ago, the dream of oceanfront living has been burning inside of me. Honestly, the dream felt like just that — a dream. Something that probably wouldn’t happen for a very, very long time…if at all. But, this house — no, this place — is something special. It’s not perfect. In fact, it’s far from it, but that’s what I loved about it. I knew immediately that it had good bones, soul, charm, and the kind of potential that makes your hands itch to start tearing down walls and rebuilding dreams. It’s 4,000+ square feet of mid-century vibes and funky angles, sitting right on the ocean. Yup — salt in the air, and waves crashing right in our backyard. It’s ours. And it needs a lot of love. We probably got this house because a lot of other buyers just couldn’t see past the work. The price had been reduced—more than once—which usually means it’s scaring people off. And to be fair, it needs a ton of work and a lot of people can’t see past the peeling paint, outdated layout, or the sheer scale of what it would take to bring a place like this back to life. It’s not just the money—it’s the vision, the knowledge, and the skills to actually pull off a massive renovation (or at least knowing you’ll be able to figure it out along the way!). I think that’s where most buyers tap out. But this? This is exactly what I live for: to take something that’s been neglected and turn it into something extraordinary. Not everyone sees the potential in a fixer-upper, but I do. I think that’s a huge advantage—not just being able to imagine what it could be, but actually knowing how to make it happen. That’s probably why this place sat on the market—and why it’s ours now. Welcome to Our Next Big Project This home is going to be a total transformation — the kind of project that will take vision, patience, grit, and about 47 gallons of coffee. And we’re bringing you along for every step. I’m officially (re)starting my YouTube channel to document the process (think: full reno series, design plans, behind-the-scenes chaos, and some DIY wins and fails). You’ll also see tons of updates, real talk, and room-by-room reveals over on Instagram. If you’ve ever wanted to know what it’s really like to take on a massive reno from the ground up (with a toddler in tow, a lot of power tools and right by the ocean), this is it. A Quick Tour: How We Found It From the outside, it might not scream “dream home” — yet. But take a look at this view 👇 📍 Nestled on the coast with 141 feet of walk-on waterfront access, the property is quiet, peaceful, and surrounded by tall trees and sea air. We’ve got a natural shoreline, space to breathe, and the kind of stillness that resets your nervous system in five minutes flat. 🏡 Inside? She’s got that retro lodge thing going on. Vaulted wood ceilings, giant beams, a central stone fireplace, and a layout that’s wild — and wildly exciting. It’s one of those homes where every room feels like a time capsule, just waiting for its moment to shine again. 💡 And yes, we’re keeping a lot of the character. We LOVE a good contrast between old soul and modern polish. Why We Put in an Offer (and Got It!) Here’s what sealed the deal for us: The light. Huge windows everywhere. Even on a gray day, the place glows.That layout. It’s a rancher (which I’ve heard most people love!) and the house runs lengthwise along the ocean, allowing for almost every room to have an ocean view. The layout is weird, it’s bold, and it’s going to make for the coolest before/afters. The location. I mean… the ocean is RIGHT THERE. Come on. The potential. This house wants to be amazing again. We’re going to make that happen. We get the keys at the end of May and you better believe we’re showing up Day One with cameras, coffee, and a “to-do” list. Let the Ideas Start Flowing… The truth is, this isn’t just a house. It’s the beginning of something so much bigger — a place to raise our son, build new memories, and create content that shows what’s possible when you dare to tackle something this big. It’s messy, magical, and 100% aligns with who I am. So here we go. Follow along as we bring this beauty back to life — one room, one wall, and one ocean view at a time. Let’s build something unforgettable. Kate 🙂🛠️ @KateBuilds | YouTube launch coming soon! 29