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I anticipated my Clayoquot Wilderness retreat would afford an opportunity to ride, kayak and fish all in the same day. But I had no idea my journey would avail a floating faerie pad that would take Alice’s breath away, complete with tea party and looking glass.

“You can do archery or horseback riding this afternoon,” says Harmony, Clayoquot Wilderness Retreat’s Activities Director, “but what I really think you should do is go and visit our neighbors, Wayne Adams and Kathryn King.”

Why, I wondered, having just landed in this adventurer’s utopia, should I go and visit the neighbors? Still I followed Harmony’s advice and embarked on the 30-minute ("neighbor" is a relative term in the wilderness) boat ride to the Adams-King home. I could never have predicted what I found, as I reminded myself to thank Harmony profusely.

The colors came into focus first—bright fuchsias and teals—offsetting the Northwest canvas of cedars and granite outcroppings like Disney’s Magic Kingdom® abuts the Anaheim asphalt. But this floating estate, nestled into a cove adjacent to Clayoquot Sound, is seven miles from the nearest cement. Adams and King’s floating home certainly deserves the moniker of magic kingdom however, an aquatic fantasyland where the bears prefer to catch salmon on the beach rather than play banjos on the stage. 

The sculptor (Adams) and dancer (King) drifted off the grid 14 years ago. They began with a simple structure, but their mutual love of gardening led to the first of what are now dozens of floating plots, and the discovery of bountiful time led to more structures. Adams and King had just completed a new cabin for their son, who recently decided to resettle upon this little pad of paradise.

Kathryn tours us through her gardens, a series of greenhouses, floating pools and perhaps 50 plots. She digs up a few potatoes and carrots for dinner, checks the status of her zukes, and conveys her relationship with each bed like a teacher presenting a student’s report card. “I have time to read in the winter,” she laughs. “But my gardens are my literature from June through September.”

Though the structures may proffer whimsy, they must also withstand the winter storms. There is a lighthouse, a recently completed refuge for meditation that was, above any higher calling, just lots of fun to build. “When I begin a project like the lighthouse,” Adams explains, “I feel no great rush to complete it. I can make it as unique as I want it to be.”

Like all of the structures, this 20-foot-tall tower looks like it belongs somehow, perhaps because my mind tripped down the rabbit hole the moment I stepped off the skiff. There are mad hatters in this world; it is possible to share tea with a dormouse. The whole “live, love, laugh” philosophy flows freshly as spring runoff when you spend time with Adams and King. “We always have plenty of visitors,” the dancer says. “So we keep the kettle on all day.”