S3, E24: This Wilderness Lodge Will Immerse You in the Heart of an Ancient Forest.

In this episode of Unpacked by Dinogo, senior deputy editor Jennifer Flowers spends a weekend at Clayoquot Wilderness Lodge. She becomes immersed in the thriving ecosystem of Clayoquot Sound’s UNESCO Biosphere Reserve. Activities include taking a refreshing dip in the waters, a helicopter ride to a towering peak, and exploring both new and ancient growth forests.

“If These Walls Could Talk” is a series by Dinogo that delves into the stories—and secrets—that hotels share about the destinations we explore.

From the First Nations groups who have cared for the land for millennia to the resort staff who escort visitors through the forest by land, sea, and air, we provide a glimpse into this luxury travel experience.

Transcript

Aislyn: I’m Aislyn Greene, and welcome to Unpacked, the podcast where we explore a challenging topic in travel each week. This week, we're featuring another episode of “If These Walls Could Talk,” our series that delves into the stories—and secrets—hotels share about the destinations we explore.

For this episode, our guide is Jennifer Flowers. Jenn is Dinogo’s senior deputy editor and oversees all of our hotel content. We often humorously refer to her as Dinogo’s Eloise because she grew up in hotels, thanks to both her parents working in the hospitality industry. Recently, she enjoyed a long weekend at Clayoquot Wilderness Lodge in British Columbia. The lodge, which opened in 2000, is now owned by Baillie Lodges, an Australian hospitality group renowned for its luxurious tented camps set in stunning landscapes across the globe.

At Dinogo, we consider Clayoquot one of Canada’s finest hotels—it even makes our Hotels We Love list. Here, the forest takes center stage, and Jenn had the chance to experience it all from land, sea, and air.

Pilot: In case we need to exit the airplane early, please let the plane rest on the water. Unbuckle your seatbelt, stand up with your life jacket fastened, and do not inflate it inside the aircraft.

I’m in the cockpit of a small seaplane on a sunny day. To my left is my partner, Tony. To my right, I spot a white pontoon below and shimmering water underneath it. We're about to embark on a 50-minute flight to Vancouver Island for a long weekend at Clayoquot Wilderness Lodge, a secluded tented camp nestled in the temperate rainforests of Clayoquot Sound. This area is rich in biodiversity, leading to its designation as a UNESCO Biosphere Reserve in 2000. For generations, the land has been home to the Ahousat, a Nuu-chah-nulth First Nation, encompassing various First Nations on the west coast of Vancouver Island. It is home to some of the last old-growth trees on the island, some of which are over 1,000 years old.

The trees are genuinely the reason for my visit. This trip feels like a pilgrimage. While Clayoquot is renowned for its luxurious tented camp experience—which I am absolutely looking forward to—it's the promise of connecting with the ancient forest and the rich marine ecosystem that truly draws me here.

A few years back, I became enamored with the temperate rainforests of the Pacific Northwest, so much so that I relocated from New York City to my father's home state of Washington to be closer to them. Those forests were my childhood summer playground and my refuge during the pandemic. Now, they form a part of my daily walks at home on Orcas Island, Washington.

I’ve heard that Clayoquot Wilderness Lodge provides the Imax experience of these breathtaking landscapes, allowing guests to explore by air, land, and sea. As our seaplane ascends toward Vancouver Island, the urban sprawl gives way to lush hillside forests. Some forests display a rich array of greens, while others consist of short trees resembling freshly mowed grass, sliced through by brown logging roads. As we near Clayoquot Lodge, the peaks around us rise dramatically. We zoom past stands of western red cedar, western hemlock, Sitka spruce, Douglas fir, and bigleaf maples. We’re so close to the trees that I feel I could almost reach out and touch them. My heart races, and I can’t tell if it's from the breathtaking view or the turbulent winds shaking the plane. As we make our final approach, I notice the lodge’s new solar field, and a winding estuary bordering the property flows into Clayoquot Sound. I’m eager to experience it all up close.

Sarah Cruse: I’m Sarah, known as Camp Mom, and I’m absolutely delighted to welcome everyone for a visit. The weather is stunning, but remember, we live in a rainforest, and even if it rains, we embrace it. Tears of joy. We never quite know how the weather will turn out, but that’s the beauty of being in Mother Nature's embrace.

Jenn: That’s Sarah Cruse, the general manager of Clayoquot Wilderness Lodge, welcoming us at the dock. She mentions the Pacific Northwest’s renowned rain. This area receives a significant amount of it, so the lodge operates only from late May to late September. Today, however, is one of those radiant summer days the region is known for. Clayoquot Sound glimmers, and the trees along with the moss-laden forest display countless shades of green. Sarah sets a welcoming tone for our stay—she's genuine, warm, and consistently engages with both the staff and the guests.

Sarah: From the bottom of our hearts, I want to extend a warm welcome and express our gratitude. Thank you for making the effort to come here, especially since we’re not the easiest place to locate. Whenever someone finds us, I think, 'Oh my God, you did it!' Get ready to dive in and have an incredible experience.

Jenn: “Diving in” is precisely what Tony and I are about to do on our first morning at the lodge. We’ve signed up for a cold plunge in Clayoquot Sound, trying out this trendy wellness experience for the first time. But as we settle into our cozy tent, enjoying the warmth of the propane stove and the softness of the wool throws, the idea of immersing ourselves in 44-degree Fahrenheit water at dawn isn’t particularly enticing. Yet, come morning, we muster the motivation to get out of bed.

Jenn (on trip): We’re heading to a cold plunge this morning where we’ll dip ourselves into frigid water for, I suppose, health benefits? It’s still dark before 6 a.m., and we’re admiring the lovely crescent moon as we prepare ourselves for this adventure.

We step into the lodge’s heated yoga studio, joining seven other guests. A staff member named Malena greets us. She guides us through a series of stretches while sharing insights about the cold plunge. But just as we start to feel comfortable, she tells us to change into our swimsuits and wrap ourselves in towels. Then, she leads us down to the pebbly beach by the sound, and the brisk air sends shivers down my spine.

Malena: Okay, towels off! As I mentioned, you’ve got two minutes to make the most of it. You can tuck your hands under your armpits to hold onto some body heat, and just observe your fight-or-flight response. Acknowledge it and embrace it; it’s a wonderful thing. Now, let's enter the water slowly, taking deep breaths. There’s a lovely sandbar you can walk onto as you go in.

Jenn: Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh. Is it done yet?

Malena: There you go. Perfect. Just breathe. Just breathe. That’s right. Nice and slow breaths, okay? In through the nose, out through the mouth.

Jenn: I drop my towel and step into the frigid water, starting with my ankles, then my knees, and finally my thighs. As I reach chest depth, panic starts to creep in. My teeth start chattering, and I let out a few groans of discomfort, mirroring the sounds of those around me. Yet, after about a minute, we all begin to quiet down and find a shared sense of calm. Toward the end of our two-minute plunge, I even start to feel a bit warm. I feel calm enough to truly appreciate my surroundings—the picturesque beach, the towering evergreens lining the shore, and the once-painful cold water now transforming into a comforting embrace. I stand there, neck-deep, feeling invigorated for what lies ahead.

And I’m thankful for that boost of energy because a long day awaits us. After breakfast in the main lodge, Tony and I embark on a multi-hour trek in the Ursus Valley with our head guide, Mark Brophy. Mark, a tall, fit, bearded Canadian in his thirties, is a bit of a badass. He’s a biologist, an adventure guide, and an adrenaline junkie. He has conquered Canada’s tallest peak, Mount Logan, and spends his winters leading expedition cruise ships in Antarctica.

Jenn: Wow, this is enormous.

Tony: How unbelievably awesome is this?

Jenn: Oh my God. This is colossal! You’re telling me this is what, around 320 feet tall?

Mark: Exactly! I’d estimate its age to be anywhere between 500 to 1,000 years. Honestly, I’m not sure.

Jenn: Oh my God.

As we stroll through the valley, I’m completely in my element, marveling at the towering cedars, hemlocks, bigleaf maples, Sitka spruces, and Douglas firs. Mark frequently pauses to share fascinating stories about the region.

Mark: We’re currently in Bedwell Sound, within the Bedwell Valley. Our route will take us along the Bedwell River. The original name for Bedwell was actually Bear, named after a British navigator. But the old name, Bear, reflects the abundance of bears in this area. We’ll follow the Bedwell for a bit, then veer east into the Ursus Valley. And do you know what Ursus means?

Tony: Bear.

Mark: Correct! We’re transitioning from Bear Valley to Bear Valley.

This area is definitely still within black bear territory—we spot claw marks on the trees as we navigate through the forest. However, Mark reassures us that encounters with bears are unlikely.

Mark: We’re fortunate with the bears here; they’re well-fed. They frequent the intertidal zone, enjoying a buffet twice a day. Especially during the full and new moons, they have access to prime dining. The tides are substantial. At high tide, they venture out to eat berries, in spring they feast on grasses, and come fall, they indulge in salmon. So thankfully, they’re not too interested in us!

Jenn: Mark invites us to feel the plush moss covering the tree stumps, like a soft carpet. I enjoy watching my hand sink into its depths. He shares that, while the older and younger forests may appear similar at first, they are actually quite distinct.

Mark: As we enter the Ursus Valley, you’ll notice the forest begins to change, which is really exciting! Take a good look around now. You’ll see a lot of uniform trees—same species, similar ages—all competing for resources, creating a rather dark atmosphere.

Jenn: Mark explains that this uniformity indicates we’re in a second-growth forest. Many years ago, these woods were cleared for gold mining and have since been replanted. Defining old-growth forests can be tricky due to the variation based on forest type. However, in temperate rainforests, they’re areas that haven’t been significantly impacted by humans for over a century. Mark mentions that old-growth forests are more resilient to fires than younger ones and can also sequester more carbon.

Mark: As we move deeper into the Ursus, we’ll encounter a transitional zone, where changes will begin to emerge. By the end of the trail, you’ll see much more diversity in tree size and species, with increased light filtering through and a rich understory. It’s an incredible shift from a modern regrowth forest to a forest that’s been around for 2,000 years.

Jenn: As we progress, the younger trees give way to towering giants, and the forest grows darker as the canopy thickens. Mark adeptly highlights the unique characteristics of various tree barks, helping us identify what we see. The bark of the western hemlock looks like strips of fatty bacon, a comparison that sticks once you notice it. The Sitka spruce's bark resembles potato chips or dragon scales, while Mark likens the western red cedar’s bark to strands of spaghetti.

While it's tempting to label areas like this as "untouched," that's not entirely accurate. Indigenous groups, such as the Ahousat, have inhabited these lands for centuries. They've managed to utilize these forests sustainably, maintaining the integrity of the ecosystem. For countless years, they've relied on the forest for essential resources like water and food, as well as cultural materials for constructing shelters, canoes, clothing, and totem poles.

We come across some yellow banana slugs, some of which bear a striking resemblance to spotted bananas. Mark shares that the Nuu-chah-nulth people have utilized this slug for medicinal purposes, as its slime contains anesthetic properties.

Mark: So, if you were dealing with a toothache, the Nuu-chah-nulth would apply the slug directly to the gums. It numbs the area, alleviating the pain. You’d leave it on for a bit—not too long—and then simply remove it and return the slug to its home.

Jenn: Wow. So, it lives? You just put it back and…

Mark: Absolutely, the slug is perfectly fine. No worries at all. You just take a small slug for that.

Tony: You're just borrowing some slugs for a while.

Mark: Exactly! Being the inquisitive scientist that I am, I had to test it myself. I placed one on my tongue for five seconds, and it numbed my tongue for five hours.

Jenn: But the real treasures here are the trees. As we stroll along, I spot a cedar tree that has a long, slender triangular patch of bark missing.

Mark: This is what we refer to as a culturally modified tree, or CMT for short. It traces back to the Nuu-chah-nulth people. The cedar tree is known as the tree of life because it provides so many resources. In the spring, you would select a young tree, say around 80 years old, and using a sharp tool like a shell, axe, or knife, you’d create a slit in the bark. Then, you carefully peel back the bark to obtain strips of cedar, which can be used for various purposes.

Jenn: You can weave those strips into a sleeping mat, or create a loosely woven basket for mushrooms, allowing the spores to disperse back into the forest and promote growth. Or you could make a tightly woven basket for berries to prevent any from falling out. There's also the option of crafting a weave so tight that it can be fashioned into waterproof clothing.

Mark explains that tribal law dictates that trees only need to give once. A cedar tree that has been harvested for clothing or baskets will never be felled for firewood or used in canoe construction. Culturally modified trees (CMTs) are safeguarded by British Columbia law if they existed before 1846. Therefore, harming or cutting down such a protected tree can result in fines or imprisonment. Interestingly, these culturally modified trees also serve as legal evidence of land rights.

Mark: These trees bear their scars for life, and they can actually be used as evidence of place. When it comes to land use determinations or historical claims, they can point to a CMT, saying, 'Look, this is a tree that's been around for a thousand years; this scar is 900 years old, indicating we were here 900 years ago.' It's tangible proof of the Nuu-chah-nulth people's existence and their historical land use.

Jenn: However, the First Nations groups here have fought hard for a voice in how their ancestral lands are used. Clayoquot Sound was the backdrop for what many describe as a long-standing 'war in the woods.' In the 1980s and 1990s, activists, including members of First Nations, organized blockades against logging operations in the area, resulting in hundreds of arrests. Finally, in June 2024, the Ahousat and Tla-o-qui-aht First Nations, along with the government of British Columbia, designated around 300 square miles of forest as 10 new conservancies.

The First Nations will manage these areas with philanthropic assistance. The establishment of these conservancies has nearly doubled the protection of old-growth forest in the region. While the land remains Crown land, the First Nations groups can utilize it in ways they deem beneficial and sustainable. They are exploring sustainable forestry in second-growth forests, carbon credits, and even tourism, similar to the operations at Clayoquot Wilderness Lodge.

Mark informs me that only about 20% of Vancouver's old-growth forests are still intact, much of which is now located within these new conservancies. As I stand among the trees, I inhale the fresh scents of pine, earth, and the lingering moisture from recent rain that nourishes these woods. I can't help but marvel at the fact that I have this magnificent place entirely to myself today.

The following day, we head back to Clayoquot Sound for a closer exploration by boat. We climb aboard a 40-foot Titan, built in Canada, with Mark and our captain, Isaac Shaw, who is a local of this area. Our mission is to spot black bears, porpoises, gray whales, bald eagles, tufted puffins, and any other wildlife we might encounter. Our route will take us around Meares Island, which is part of the newly established conservancies.

Mark: Remember, we’re surrounded by nature, so it’s not just bears we’re looking for. Keep an eye out for eagles perched in the trees—look for their white heads. Bears can be seen along the shore—spot for their black silhouettes. And there might be harbor porpoises swimming about. So, stay alert and expect the unexpected!

Jenn: We’re on the lookout for black bears during low tide since they love foraging along the shoreline for crabs, barnacles, and other marine snacks. They have quite a task ahead of them: it’s bulking season before they hibernate, and the spawning salmon they typically feast on in the rivers aren’t here yet. These bears can tip the scales at up to 600 pounds, so they need to consume between 15,000 to 30,000 calories daily.

Jenn: Before long, we spot our first bear on the shoreline, and Isaac slows the boat to give us a better view.

Mark: Great spotting! We have a bear right in front of us. Everyone, let’s head out to the front deck on the bow for a better look. Just a reminder, while we’re bear watching, these animals have exceptional hearing, so let’s be quiet and calm. Enjoy the experience, and let Isaac handle the boat.

Jenn: And there it is—a stunning black bear, its coat glistening in the sunlight. It’s effortlessly flipping over large rocks, searching for its next meal of crabs. It turns out black bears have a taste for Dungeness crab just like we do!

Mark: You can see him crunching, right? You can hear the [crunching sound] and the movement of his tongue. There could be crabs hiding under those rocks—lots of green crabs and the larger Dungeness crabs too, which are the big orange ones. Sometimes, you’ll see them with a mouthful of crab, and the little claws are trying to pinch, but the bear just keeps chomping away. It’s fantastic!

Jenn: It’s encouraging to see that Mark, Isaac, and the other guides here at Clayoquot are committed to having the least impact on nature as we take in all the sights.

Mark: That was an incredible moment, wasn’t it? This is what we dream of—arriving just in time to see a bear in its natural behavior, watching it while allowing it to continue what it was doing. Kudos to Captain Isaac for getting us close enough for that amazing experience without intruding on the bear’s space. Wait, there might be another bear—oh, just a rock. False alarm.

Jenn: Shortly after that, we’re on the lookout for more charismatic megafauna—this time, gray whales.

Mark: Look at that beautiful, expansive horseshoe-shaped sandy bay. It’s quite shallow here, making it an ideal feeding ground for gray whales. They filter feed throughout the water column and often venture into the shallows. Right in this area, they’ll drag their mouths along the seafloor, sifting through mud, crab, crab eggs, and whatever other creatures they find. Like other baleen whales, they’ll lift their tongues to expel the mud and water afterward.

Jenn: I love how Isaac can recognize the whales by sight—one of them is Orange Crush, first spotted in Clayoquot Sound back in 1977. You can hear the excitement in his voice as we approach Cleland Island, a hotspot for various marine species from birds to seals. It’s so ecologically significant that a research permit is required to set foot on this small, rocky island.

Isaac: Straight ahead. It’s quite close.

Jenn: Isaac highlights a kelp forest that envelops the island, explaining that these underwater forests are just as ancient and vital as terrestrial ones. They support a myriad of life forms, including vulnerable species like small fish, crab eggs, and sea urchins. Suddenly, Isaac wants us to learn more about bull kelp. He reaches into the water, cuts off a small piece of one of the long, slender stems with his knife, and slices it into tiny bits.

Isaac: Have any of you ever tasted bull kelp before?

Jenn: That's incredible!

Mark: This journey is all about touch, taste, and feel. Pure juicy delight. Cheers!

Isaac: Does anyone else want to give it a try?

Tony: I'll give it a shot.

Jenn: Sure! It’s really nice. It’s a bit salty and has a rich umami flavor.

Tony: Quite salty!

Jenn: A hint of umami flavor.

Mark: Exactly! It’s reminiscent of cucumber.

Jenn: While we enjoy our kelp snack, Isaac mentions that every summer, his family undertakes a large bull kelp harvest. They pickle and preserve it for the winter months.

Isaac: Yep, it’s essentially the fastest-growing plant on Earth. You can also trim it, and when it's longer, it can function like a beer bong.

Jenn: Haha! That’s the kind of knowledge you gain from growing up around here.

Mark: Absolutely.

Jenn: He also mentions that seaweed goes really well with beer.

Isaac: They’re back there if you’d like one. You know, there’s actually a brewery that makes a kelp stout, though I don’t think there’s any in the cooler right now.

Jenn: Ooo!

Isaac: They do the same thing; they infuse kelp into their dark beer.

Jenn: That’s pretty neat.

Isaac: It gives it a slightly salty flavor... really delicious.

Jenn: I originally came here for the forests, but I’m also developing a deep appreciation for the coastal ocean biome that is so intricately linked to the trees I cherish. While boating around, I discover that when spawning salmon in the Bedwell River perish, they become nutrients that nourish the trees. This is a significant reason why coastal trees grow much larger than those inland. From that moment on, I understand that everything here exists in a harmonious relationship. This includes all the people—staff and guests alike—who have traveled here to admire this beauty.

After spending some time on the ground, I’m eager to get a broader perspective again. One afternoon, Tony, Mark, and I have a rendezvous with Dug Gammage, the lodge’s helicopter pilot, in the forest.

[ Sound of helicopter blades ]

Jenn: After enjoying lunch and a refreshing dip in the icy water by the Bedwell River, we lounge in the sun and hear the helicopter before we catch sight of it. Moments later, the chopper touches down on the rocky riverbank. Before long, we’re airborne, soaring over, around, and alongside rugged, tree-clad peaks, with stunning deep blue glacial lakes appearing beneath us. I’ve flown in helicopters before, but each time we glide past a mountain peak and watch the land drop away, I feel my palms grow sweaty.

About 15 minutes later, Dug lands just below the summit of Ursus Mountain on a small plateau and steps out to collect other guests from nearby sea caves. Tony and I hop out, and soon Mark is guiding us toward the summit of Ursus Mountain. We awkwardly navigate the rocky terrain, climbing higher as we follow the nimble Mark, snacking on alpine blueberries along the way. After a sweaty 30 minutes, we reach the top, where I hold onto a rock while soaking in the panoramic 360-degree views. Mark, sporting rubber boots, appears completely at ease as he hops over to another rock to set up a drone.

Jenn: So, Tony, here we are at the summit of Mount Ursus. How are you feeling?

Tony: I’m feeling pretty great.

Jenn: Really? I’m feeling a rush of excitement knowing that our helicopter is behind us. Our guide is scrambling around the rocks like a monkey...

Tony: Snagging drones.

Jenn: ...snagging drones. And down there, there’s a stunning lake right where the helicopter just was, and I have to admit, it’s a bit dizzying.

We make our way back to the plateau-turned-helipad, where Mark sets up a table and chairs for us and pours some ice-cold margaritas. He lays out an extravagant charcuterie spread, and the three of us chat, sip, and snack while we await Dug’s return.

And let me tell you—experiencing a helicopter ride in the mountains before enjoying a margarita versus afterward feels completely different. As you can imagine, the margarita gives you a bit of liquid courage, easing some of your inhibitions—and your tendency to self-edit.

Jenn: Does this ever become, like, normal or mundane? Is this what normal feels like? [Jenn screams] Ahhhh, oh my God!

Dug’s response is to soar upward rapidly toward the vast blue sky, then make a gut-wrenching turn back toward the riverbed. Maneuvers like this are routine and safe for a seasoned pilot like Dug, who has been flying in this area for decades. For someone like me, inexperienced with helicopters, it’s one of the most exhilarating experiences of my life—and I’m thankful the margaritas have eased my nerves.

Dug is somewhat of a local legend. A few days after our helicopter escapades, I manage to find him at his helipad for a conversation. He sets up a couple of chairs in the shade of a nearby tree. Originally from Ontario, Dug flew planes for the mining industry for many years before landing in British Columbia in the ’80s. He has been working at the lodge since 2012.

As we chat, he shares that he once had the opportunity to purchase a 160-acre piece of land where Clayoquot Lodge now stands and to homestead it. However, Dug and his wife were busy raising children at that time, and getting them to school in Tofino would have posed quite a challenge. Ultimately, the lodge’s first owner, Vancouver businessman Richard Genovese, who envisioned building a nature lodge there, outbid him.

Dug: It’s always fun to daydream: If we had bought this, there would just be a house over there and a few boats at a dock. Would the Bedwell have been saved?

Jenn: As our conversation unfolds, the answers seem both straightforward and complex at the same time.

Dug: It really boils down to three fundamental questions that, for some reason, remain unanswered for me. What defines old growth? Where can it be found? And who owns it? Let's tackle them in reverse order.

Jenn: What’s evident is that Dug, who considers himself a pragmatic conservationist, finds his greatest joy in exploring these forests, both from the ground and the sky.

Dug: Look, I’m a passionate gardener. I invest a lot of effort to cultivate a carrot that size. Then you look at these trees with their tiny root systems in poor soil, yet they grow so robustly. It's perplexing. That entire hillside is filled with magnificent trees despite the scant dirt. As a gardener, you follow all the right practices, composting and nurturing, and then you feel thrilled to harvest a radish or a tomato. Yet, here are these trees thriving.

I think what I’m experiencing is something akin to pantheism. I see as much divinity in that little sapling as I do in the helicopter, the massive tube, or even you. To me, everything possesses a certain subatomic divinity.

Jenn: What I cherish most about Clayoquot is the shared sense of wonder that envelops us all. I feel it while soaring in the helicopter and during our conversations with the staff and fellow guests in the dining room. The staff genuinely seem to enjoy their time here, and many make it a tradition to return to the lodge each summer.

Later that day, as Tony and I prepare to catch our flight back to Vancouver, the sun shines brightly, reflecting off the water and the lush landscape just as it did when we first arrived. I reminisce about those long walks in the cool shade of the ancient forests, the helicopter gliding over vibrant alpine lakes, and the invigorating jolt from that refreshing, espresso-like plunge into the chilly waters of the sound. Leaving this place is proving difficult.

As I prepare to depart Clayoquot Wilderness Lodge after three wonderful nights, the sounds of planes arriving and leaving fill the air. Guests are checking out today, and it’s an absolutely beautiful day. The evergreens glisten in the sunshine, making it hard to part from this enchanting place. The memories will linger with me for a long time.

Aislyn: That was Jenn Flowers. We’ll provide links to her social media, where she’s shared some incredible photos from her journey. We’ll also link to the lodge itself, which is now open for bookings starting in May 2025. Next week, we’ll return with tips on how to enjoy Paris like a local, courtesy of longtime resident Lindsey Tramuta.

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You've been listening to Unpacked, brought to you by Dinogo Media. This podcast is produced by Aislyn Greene and Nikki Galteland, with music composed by Chris Colin.

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