爱是永不止息。

FROM the ice-cold waters of the Strait of Georgia, the 150-mile-long waterway that separates Vancouver Island from mainland British Columbia, the eastern shore of Galiano Island looked untouched by man — if not by nature. The sandstone shore was curled and carved by centuries of storms and waves, and beyond it rose the spruce, fir and russet-trunk arbutus trees that cover much of this skinny, 19-mile-long island. South of where I swam was a sheltered cove, Pebble Beach, protected from the wind, its namesake pebbles warmed by the unclouded sun. Under the water lay thick-bodied ocher starfish, and on its surface floated the bulbous heads of bull kelp.

The only sign I saw, one afternoon in early August, that human beings lived on Galiano were the not-so-bulbous heads and not-so-thick bodies of Heather, Noah and Miss Mae, the 20-something strangers I’d met five minutes before, who themselves were floating in the water in a prehistoric state: They were naked.

Pebble Beach was, as Noah put it, “the nudie beach,” and I, following the lead of these locals, was naked, too, hovering in the warm water near the surface and hoping not to freeze.

Skinny-dipping with strangers might seem a little weird, even a bit louche, for a first-day tourist experience, but on Galiano, it took on a surprising innocence — an atmosphere that persisted as the trio, along with their friend, Tia, who’d stayed clothed on the shore, brought me to Noah’s home for beers and homemade blackberry-blueberry pie.

Then, as the light was beginning to fade and the shadows’ chill settled on us, we followed a path through the woods that led to Retreat Cove, a secluded inlet where a single sailboat bobbed in waters flecked gold by the sun. We drank, enjoying the day’s last rays, and then I left them alone, hiking to the main road and heading for my bed-and-breakfast.

Two questions popped into my mind as I walked along the unfamiliar road, my thumb outstretched: Where was I? And more important, when was I? The first answer was obvious: I was in the Gulf Islands, an archipelago that stretches up the Vancouver Island coast. Connected by the mostly reliable and affordable BC Ferries, they are easy escapes from the bustle of the mainland (from Vancouver, Galiano was a 55-minute ride that cost 14.85 Canadian dollars, or $13.50 at 1.10 Canadian dollars to the U.S. dollar). All are prized by in-the-know Canadians for their rustic beauty, bountiful farms and friendliness to typically cash-poor artists and craftsmen. But even among these frugal islands, Galiano stands out, which leads me to the second answer.

The year 2009 may be drawing to a close, but on Galiano a low-budget trip takes on the open-ended feeling of summer 1979. Skinny-dipping aside, this is a place out of time. Cars are mostly unnecessary: everyone from farmhands to restaurant workers gets around by thumb. (And “everyone” is itself a stretch: Only 1,100 people live here year-round.) Shiny blackberries hang from dense roadside bushes, unmanned stands sell paper bags of “transparent apples” (great for applesauce), and fat oysters sit in shallow waters, turning every trip to the beach, up a small mountain or down the street, into a foraging expedition from hunter-gatherer days.

There’s certainly money here — a passenger in the car that picked me up that night was building a Tibetan-style house on the island’s northern end— but riches feel superfluous when one of the finest meals to be had on the island costs a mere 31.50 dollars a person.

That meal, in fact, was what had lured me away from my new friends, who had invited me for roast duck. Instead, I returned to La Bérengerie, a restaurant and bed-and-breakfast run by Huguette Benger, who visited Galiano from her home in Avignon, France, in 1980 and fell in love with the trees and the sea.

“Like most people on Galiano,” she said, “you come for a weekend and you stay for your life.”

In 1982, Ms. Benger opened La Bérengerie, moving it the next year to a wood-frame house she’d built herself, and in its intimate dining room, lighted by lamps that recall both Tiffany and India, began serving her style of French food, influenced by her Provençal upbringing, local ingredients and foods she’d tasted on her travels. The night I ate there, the four-course prix-fixe meal bore traces of Russia (neon borscht), the Balkans (cucumber-yogurt salad), southern France (tapenade-crusted snapper) and, of course, Galiano (a cake studded with local berries). That’s a lot of geography — not to mention a lot of food —for the price.

La Bérengerie’s rooms offered the same value-added appeal: brass beds and steamer trunks, aged wainscoting and delicate floral wallpaper, carved wood mirrors and vintage leather club chairs, and tons of space for 95 dollars a night (including breakfast). So what if the bathroom was shared? With only three bedrooms, it was unlikely there would be a line.

For a frugal traveler dependent on the kindness of strangers for transportation, La Bérengerie was in a near-ideal location. It was about three miles west of Sturdies Bay, where the ferries land and where most of Galiano’s businesses are, and less than half a mile from Montague Harbour, where a marina and a provincial park ensured there’d be passing traffic to flag down.

Montague Harbour also gave me something to do when I didn’t feel like hitching a lift elsewhere. The marina was tantalizing, with its fine boats and tour services, but it seemed out of my league: Moped rentals were 109 dollars a day.

But just past the marina was Montague Harbour Marine Provincial Park, 240 acres of wetlands, woods, beaches and campgrounds that I could have spent an entire day exploring. Alas, I spent only one night there, arriving without a reservation to find every official campsite taken. But in the same way that Pebble Beach is not officially clothing-optional, the rules of the campground are flexible, defined by the park ranger, who directed me to an open field dotted with picnic tables and explained, “No one gets turned away.”

Having pitched my tent, I wandered down to the white-shell beaches at the heel end of the park’s Gray Peninsula, eager to hunt oysters. (I had previously called Fisheries and Oceans Canada to check that there was no red tide, which causes paralytic shellfish poisoning.) Barnacles covered nearly every rock’s surface, and between the pebbles jets of water would sometimes shoot up — signs that clams were buried below. More ocher starfish clung to the undersides of rock ledges, and seabirds flew low over the gently lapping water.

A small tour group was exploring the same intertidal territory, led by Patti Pringle of the Galiano Conservancy Association, who explained that most oysters were not native but had been imported from Japan in the 1920s. She’d also never seen one opened, and so, once I’d tracked down a half-dozen huge, deeply fluted shells, I cracked one for her group. Alas, it was August, and the oyster was milky with spawn — too slimy to truly enjoy. Still, it tickled my frugal bones to know that with my one-day fishing license (7.35 dollars), I could pluck up to 15 oysters with minimal effort, and the smidgen of history I’d picked up reminded me of a summer camp field trip.

Getting deeper into Galiano history proved to be tricky. The Galiano Museum exists primarily online as a collection of photographs, though a brick-and-mortar version is in the works. The island’s historical details instead seemed to float around in the ether (and in guidebooks): First Nations people fished there and had a small village near Montague Harbour; Canadians, Europeans and Japanese had colonized the area in the 19th century and named Galiano for a Spanish navigator; logging and canneries had ceded to tourism as the main industry.

More insight came from people like Noah, who reminisced about growing up without electricity, and the quirky locals who gave me rides. Eric Nelson, for example, had wavy gray hair, multiple earrings and a hot-pink baseball cap and drove a big white van with a Buddha on the dashboard. He’d moved to Galiano almost 30 years ago because he’d heard of a cheap cabin to rent. Today, he is a plumber and organic farmer (I bought some lovely cucumbers and tomatoes from his stand for 3.25 dollars) and can remember when a certain stretch of road had been a meadow. Like much of the island, it was so thickly forested I could hardly see 10 feet into it.

I also began to get a sense that Galiano’s rusticity was not 100 percent idyllic. One woman who picked me up noted that people in the southern part of the island were much less likely to give me a ride than were the northerners. “They’re the freaks,” she said with a smile, and she may have been right. The southern end of the island is the center of development, a contentious issue.

But you wouldn’t know that to look at it. Downtown was a jumble of businesses stretching from the ferry terminal, where I ate German-inflected Indonesian noodles at the Max & Moritz street cart (10.75 dollars with a lemonade), to Scoops, where I slurped ice cream, to a secondhand store and a few galleries displaying works by local artists. (Don’t mean to be harsh, but they struck me as more artsy than artistic.) After the hardware store and the Hummingbird Pub, which makes a good bacon cheeseburger and runs shuttle buses, there isn’t much commerce.

And yet this was, in its own innocent way, the hub of activity. There were brand-new vacation properties; there was a skateboard park. A dying baby seal on the shore below the ferry attracted a stream of concerned observers. Galiano Island Books held a reading by Linda L. Richards and Roy Innes, mystery writers and Gulf Islanders. (Free wine and cheese!) And I had the misfortune to leave the island the morning of the Galiano Wine Festival, which brought in dozens of local and far-flung producers and distributors. (At 30 dollars, it was a little steep.)

To me, Galiano’s small-town atmosphere was endearing, but it reminded people from neighboring islands of their own recent past. It was, they told me, like Salt Spring Island 30 years ago, or Gabriola Island in the early ’90s. And I could understand the Galianoites’ worry that the place they’d been escaping to for so long might become — and this was the worst insult on Galiano — another Vancouver suburb.

But it was hard to feel the creep of modernization the night I returned to the campground from the Hummingbird Pub (thanks to a ride from my tablemate) and walked under bright starlight to the same beach I’d foraged that morning.

At the shore, I heard faint music. Resting on the beach was Steve Pearson, a young Vancouverite with a guitar and harmonica. I asked him to play something, and he launched into Neil Young’s “Heart of Gold.” The water, much higher now than in the morning, pushed toward our feet, and the only artificial light we could see came from the winking beacons of a few sailboats moored in the bay — and, once, from Mr. Pearson’s cellphone. He had a text message, and the screen lighted up his face like magic.

IF YOU GO

HOW TO GET THERE

United and Air Canada operate nonstop flights from New York City airports to Vancouver for around $650 round trip, according to a recent online search for travel in early October. But at about $500, Cathay Pacific’s nonstop looks like a better deal. From the Vancouver airport, you can take city buses, 3.75 Canadian dollars, or about $3.40 at 1.10 dollars to the U.S. dollar, to the Tsawwassen ferry terminal. The ferry to Galiano Island runs at least once a day, and is 14.85 dollars for pedestrians; on weekdays, passage for cars is 47.60 dollars; fuel rebates may also apply; www.bcferries.com for details.

HOW TO GET AROUND

Hitchhiking is a common way to get around all the Gulf Islands, but if you don’t want to thumb it, mountain bikes are for rent at Galiano Bicycle Rental (36 Burrill Road; 250-539-9906; www.galianoisland.com/galianobicycle; 30 dollars a day), and mopeds are for rent at the Montague Harbour Marina (Montague Road; 250-539-3443; www.montagueharbour.com).

WHAT TO DO

“Hiking the Gulf Islands: An Outdoor Guide to BC’s Enchanted Isles,” by Charles Kahn (Harbour Publishing, 2004), is the best guide to the small mountains and winding trails that dot Galiano. Swimming is possible at most of the rocky, pebbly or gray-sand beaches. Gulf Island Kayaking (250-539-2442; www.seakayak.ca) rents kayaks starting at 32 dollars for two hours and organizes tours starting at 55 dollars.

WHERE TO STAY

La Bérengerie (2806 Montague Road; 250-539-5392; www.galianoisland.com/laberengerie; 95 dollars a night).

Montague Harbour Marine Provincial Park (end of Montague Road; 250-539-2115; www.env.gov.bc.ca/bcparks; campsites from 10 dollars per person a night).

WHERE TO EAT AND DRINK

La Bérengerie’s prix-fixe menu is 31.50 dollars, not including drinks.

Max & Moritz Spicy Island Food (Sturdies Bay ferry terminal; 250-539-2888).

Hummingbird Pub (47 Sturdies Bay Road; 250-539-5472; www3.telus.net/hummingbirdpub).

Scoops Ice Cream & Burger Bar (2540 Sturdies Bay Road; 250-539-2388).

DANGLING at the southern end of the Bahamas island chain like an after-thought, Turks and Caicos was often overlooked as a Caribbean destination. But thanks to some of the swankiest names in hotels — Regent, Amanresorts and Meriden, to name a few — Turks and Caicos is now firmly on the map of those seeking a beach vacation with heavy pampering and a splash of indulgence. It is the kind of place where hotel staff members adjust your beach chair umbrella as the sun shifts and pass out cool towels to keep you from overheating. And moderately priced hotels have maid service a mere two times a day, instead of providing guests with a small army of personal servants. Technically, the islands are in the Atlantic, but with this level of coddling — not to mention some of the bluest waters in the world — who cares?

Friday

5:30 p.m.
1) SUNSET SHOW

Chances are your hotel is somewhere on Grace Bay, with its stunning stretch of satin-soft white sand wrapping around the northeastern edge of Providenciales, the main island. The beach gently slopes into the ocean, which reveals bands of blue and green that are so brilliant no postcard could do them justice. This must be one of the loveliest beaches anywhere in the tropics. Time your stroll with the setting sun when the orange light reflects off the blue water.

8 p.m.
2) CONCH-ED OUT

Grace Bay is also home to a surfeit of restaurants, some better than others. For something less touristy, venture about 15 minutes by car into the Blue Hills along the northwestern coastline. Da Conch Shack (Blue Hills Road; 649-946-8877; www.conchshack.tc) stays true to its name, serving up conch from a hut on the beach that is bedecked in the mollusk’s glistening pink shells. Sit down at a picnic table just a few steps from the water, take off your shoes, dip your feet into the sand and decide how you want your conch. Curried? Sautéed? Diced up and served ceviche-style? Definitely don’t skip the conch fritters, which are golden brown, moist and chewy.

11 p.m.
3) KNOW WHEN TO FOLD ’EM

Las Vegas it’s not. But Providenciales does offer charming, if low-key gaming, from slots to blackjack to craps. Its two tourist-geared casinos are both situated in nondescript buildings that could easily be mistaken for medical offices or insurance agencies. But consider that a good thing. The lack of any flashy appointments at the Casablanca Casino (Grace Bay Road; 649-941-3737; www.thecasablancacasino.com) lends a low-stakes atmosphere that won’t make you feel like a chump for heading straight for the $10 blackjack table.

Saturday

9 a.m.
4) EAT WHAT?

After laying eyes on Grace Bay, you’ll probably want to stay put. But then you’ll miss the nearby islets like Iguana Island, a nature preserve where the scaly little lizards scamper through the brush, and Water Cay, home to stunning Half Moon Bay, whose crescent of powder white sand is framed by limestone cliffs. For $89, Silverdeep (Leeward Highway; 649-946-5612; www.silverdeep.com) offers three-hour excursions that include rum punch and a local delicacy — but you have to earn it. Your captain will shell and clean as much conch as you can pluck from the ocean floor, before mincing and marinating it in lemon and lime. Oh, and what is that translucent, spaghetti-shaped appendage purported to have aphrodisiac powers? That’s the conch penis, and you should be prepared to eat it.

2 p.m.
5) ROOMS AT THE TOP

You may think you’ve seen luxury on Providenciales, but Amanyara (Malcolm Roads; 649-941-8133; www.amanresorts.com) makes the Regent look like a Holiday Inn. With the cheapest room starting at $1,550 during the winter, lunch is a more affordable way to marvel at the resort’s airy, pagodalike pavilions and reflecting pools, and even that is no bargain. The jerk chicken, garnished with an avocado and paw paw salad, is $32 and the Greek salad (no chicken included) is $20. But what better way to forget about the recession than to lounge on one of the poolside canopied beds, nursing a cocktail?

7 p.m.
6) INFINITE MOJITOS

Like much of the Caribbean, Providenciales has no shortage of beach bars outfitted in full-on tropical kitsch. Tiki torches, thatch umbrellas and coconut shells abound. But for something less conventionally beachy, try Anacaona at the Grace Bay Club (Grace Bay Road; 649-946-5050; www.gracebayclub.com), whose infinity bar is a 90-foot oblong slab of black granite stretching toward the water. It is claimed to be the Caribbean’s longest bar, but in truth, it is not quite “infinity” — there is some brush that slightly obscures the ocean view. Nonetheless, it’s impressive, as are the $13 cocktails, all made with tropical flair like the raspberry mojito, and the appetizers, which should tide you over until dinner.

8:30 p.m.
7) UNDER THE PALMS

It’s hard to imagine a nicer dinner setting than Grace Bay Beach. But a five-minute drive inland takes you to Coco Bistro (Grace Bay Road; 649-946-5369), about the prettiest place you can hope to find away from the water. Set underneath a canopy of soaring palm trees, this outdoor restaurant offers hearty alternatives to the steady diet of conch and fish. There’s a 16-ounce bone-in prime rib ($39), rack of lamb ($40) and a Caesar salad served with bacon and a peppery dressing ($9). You might even inquire about taking a palm tree home with you from the nursery right next door.

11 p.m.
8) SPLIT-LEVEL BARS

Despite its tropical locale, night life in Providenciales is more martini glasses than plastic cups. But if you insist on tiny umbrellas in your drink, head to the Ports of Call mall, a strip mall near the resorts along Grace Bay Road that has two fun-loving bars: Jimmy’s downstairs (649-946-5282) and Calico Jack’s upstairs (649-946-5129). The distance between the two is just a flight of stairs, so patrons can easily wander back and forth depending on the crowd and the live music offerings.

Sunday

10 a.m.
9) SUNDAY BLUES

The blues that surrounds Turks and Caicos are so vivid that you’ll want to consult a color wheel. Is that cyan? Cobalt? Azure? But the water in Chalk Sound, an inlet surrounded by national park on one side and sprawling villas on the other, is the most unusual shade of blue anywhere on the island. A touch lighter than turquoise and not quite sky blue, the color appears something like the color of the United Nations flag. A camera-ready road snakes down the peninsula that runs along the southern end of the sound, providing sweeping views of the vivid water and hillsides.

Noon
10) SHRIMPS IN A CUP

In one corner of Chalk Sound sits Las Brisas (At Neptune Villas, Chalk Sound Drive; 649-946-5306), a cafe that offers inexpensive sandwiches (shredded pork, chicken and, of course, conch for about $10) and even more spectacular views. The restaurant is perched at a slight elevation and faces the water. Don’t skip the fried plantain cup filled with grilled shrimp and topped with a Creole sauce. Work it off by renting one of the sea kayaks from the bartender and paddling it around Chalk Sound. On an island this luxe, it’s probably the only real work you’ll do yourself the entire trip.

THE BASICS

American Airlines offers nonstop flights to Providenciales, the main island, from New York starting at around $500 based on a recent online search. Delta, US Airways, United and Continental fly there with one stop. With the layover, prices can be lower.

Renting a car is the best option for getting around; taxis are less reliable and expensive. Avis and Budget have cars starting at $100 a day. Remember: drive on the left.

The Seven Stars Resort (Grace Bay Road; 866-570-7777; www.sevenstarsgracebay.com) opened in 2008 and occupies one of the widest stretches of Grace Bay Beach. It has beautifully appointed suites with granite kitchens and Sub Zero refrigerators. Rates start at $468 a night for a garden view room, though better deals can be found by calling the hotel directly for an ocean-view upgrade.

The 47-room West Bay Club (Grace Bay Road; 888-701-0079; www.thewestbayclub.com) is also directly on Grace Bay, though it is smaller and more moderately priced, with rates starting at $300 in the high season.

If cost is no concern, Amanyara (Malcolm Roads; 866-941-8133; www.amanresorts.com) has a five-bedroom beach villa that goes for $13,950 a night. Smaller villas start at $5,600. The atmosphere is as serene and refined as you can expect to find anywhere in the tropics.