I’d been meaning to get out and catch some fall color all week. We came down from Squamish over the weekend and I could see that color was there, but fading fast.
November’s here, which means most of the leaves have already made their way to the ground, but I figured there had to be pockets of color still hanging on somewhere in downtown Vancouver.
The weather was cooperating—right at 50 degrees and damp, but dry for the moment. Living in Vancouver, you learn to take the not wet spells when you get them, because rain’s always on the radar. I threw on jeans, a t-shirt, hoodie, and windbreaker and headed out for a walk through the West End and Coal Harbour. No particular destination in mind, just trying to hit my 10,000 steps and see what color was left.
The Reality of Early November
Timing fall color in Vancouver is hard. You’re either too early or too late, and this year I was definitely leaning toward too late. Most of the trees had already dropped their leaves, and what remained was scattered, a branch here, a small tree there, holding onto the last bits of yellow and orange before giving up entirely.
But that’s part of what made the walk interesting. Instead of being overwhelmed by color everywhere, I found myself hunting for it, noticing the individual trees that were still putting on a show while everything around them had already moved on to winter.
Traveling Through Seasons
One of the stranger aspects of splitting time between Northern California and Southern British Columbia is how a two-hour flight moves you through the seasons. It’s most noticeable in spring and fall, when the temperature and daylight are changing fast. In early November, the Bay Area might still be hitting the high 70s and sunny with trees still somewhat green, people in t-shirts, fall barely registering as a concept.
Then you get on a plane, and by the time you land in Vancouver, you’ve jumped ahead three weeks. The leaves are already on the ground. The temperature dropped thirty degrees. People are wearing actual winter jackets, not just hoodies. It’s disorienting in a way that doesn’t quite make sense until you experience it—the same calendar date, the same continent, but completely different seasons depending on which side of the border you’re on.
Part of it is latitude, sure. But part of it is also how the two places do fall differently. The Bay Area tends to have fall color near homes and office parks—planted ornamentals that turn on schedule. Vancouver feels more like actual deciduous forests mixing into the city, with the moisture and cooler temps giving you stronger, more consistent foliage. When the color hits here, it really hits.
West End Wandering
I spent most of the two hours in the quieter residential blocks of the West End, where the old growth trees create these canopies over the streets and the variety of architecture—heritage houses next to mid-century apartments next to newer condos—keeps things visually interesting. The Japanese maples were holding on strong, deep reds still fully intact, not ready to let go yet. There were other trees with bright yellow leaves (I didn’t know what they were, honestly), and plenty already bare or covered in brown.
Coal Harbour had color too, but the trees in the West End were bigger, more established, creating these moments where you’d turn a corner and find yourself under a tunnel of yellow and orange that hadn’t quite finished falling yet.
I walked sections of the seawall—because how do you walk around Coal Harbour and the West End without hitting the seawall?—and looped back through the residential streets, just covering ground and watching the light change as the afternoon wore on.
The Ground Show
What struck me more than the trees themselves was the ground. Walking through those quieter West End blocks, the sidewalks were covered in layers of leaves—yellows, oranges, reds, browns, all mixed together and slowly decomposing into that earthy fall smell that reminds you winter’s coming whether you’re ready or not.
Some property owners had clearly given up on raking (I get it), while others were fighting the good fight, creating neat piles along the curb that would probably be scattered again by the next morning’s wind. There’s something both futile and admirable about that—the determination to keep things tidy when nature’s clearly decided it’s time to make a mess.
What I Found
By the end of the walk, I’d covered a good stretch of the West End and Coal Harbour, hitting my steps and then some. The color wasn’t spectacular—not the kind of thing you’d drive hours to see—but it was there if you looked for it. Small moments of yellow against a gray sky. Japanese maples holding onto their deep reds. One stubborn tree here and there refusing to give up its orange foliage while everything around it had already moved on.
I was lucky to catch the aurora one night. The clouds were thick that night, but the solar flares were at a high point that evening. With a little lightroom finesse, I was able to catch the aurora, the Lion’s Gate Bridge, and the cityscape. Wow!
I’m always amazed at how time quickly passes up here. It was a great week with R, and now it’s time to head indoors to HackDiabetes25 to build the next generation of DIY insulin delivery systems. I caught the final sunset in the wake of weather rolling across the lower mainland. I appreciate the cold, blue light highlighting the storm blowing across English Bay. Winter is coming.
There’s something about finding fall color in early November that feels like catching the end of a party—you missed the main event, but there are still a few stand out people hanging around, and sometimes those moments are the best ones anyway.
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