October Daily 11: On the water

 

This morning we launched the boat and rode to Port Browning on Pender Island for lunch with friends. Cloudy skies and a bit of wind gave way to blue patches and calm seas. The two-hour trip went by quickly for the six of us. 

There are splotches of autumn colour in the forests, although the evergreens continue to dominate. 

Five of our group ordered the burgers that the Port Browning Marina Pub is famous for, but I opted for the fish tacos. Everyone was happy with their selection and we ate outdoors at a picnic table with the warm sun on our faces. There won't be too many more days for that as the month goes on and the weather cools. 

We sailed home under sunny skies, relaxed and contented. This evening's dinner was turkey dinner leftovers, always delicious. 

And so another Thanksgiving holiday weekend ends. Thankfulness persists. 

Sea Sights

 

British naval officer Captain George Vancouver spent three summers (1791-1795) mapping the jagged coastline of what is now the province of British Columbia, and the states of Alaska, Washington, and Oregon. He is famous for naming one section Desolation Sound, because of the unending forests and seemingly uninhabitable land.

When the expedition first entered the Strait of Juan de Fuca, "very thick rainy weather" met the crew and dampened their spirits. However, the very next day, Thomas Manby, master's mate on the ship Discovery, wrote "It had more the aspect of enchantment than reality, with silent admiration each discerned the beauties of nature, and nought was heard on board but expressions of delight murmured from every tongue. Imperceptibly our Bark skimmed over the glassy surface of thedeep, about three miles an hour, a gentle breeze swelled the lofty canvass whilst all was calm below." 

When we travel the same waters of the Salish Sea, I often think of those European explorers. What would they think of the enormous bulk carriers such as the ones above? When we pass by them on our little boat, I am staggered by their size. I looked up the size of one when we arrived home - 229 metres long and 32 metres wide. A soccer field (football pitch) is 90-120 metres by 64-75 metres. 

These ships are bound for the port facility near Vancouver, on the mainland. Because rail transport has been disturbed due to the wildfire that destroyed the town of Lytton and the railway bridge near it, ships cannot dock and unload in a timely manner. Everything is backed up. I counted 8 of these bulk carriers at anchor during our 4 hour trip to Ladysmith. 

We usually drop anchor in a quiet bay, but for this trip we were meeting up with a group of friends who have the same kind of boat. We pulled up to the dock at Ladysmith and enjoyed visiting and seeing the sights on shore. There is a float house beside the marina and the owner has colourful pots of flowers decorating the outside of his/her home. 

In the evening light, tall masts look even taller when reflected in the smooth as silk water. 

Queen Anne's Lace is in bloom, dancing along the edges of roads, rail lines, and shorelines. 

I'm sure Captain Vancouver and his crew would be astounded by the current population of this island that bears his name. They spent the summers here, but returned to Hawaii to pass the winter (the first snowbirds?). All kinds of houses dot the coastline, ranging from ramshackle dwellings to magnificent mansions. I like the cottage above, tucked away into the woods with a small protected harbour for the boat essential for access to the home. This house seems to fit the landscape well. 

Near home again and majestic Mount Baker floats on the clouds while sailboats tack back and forth, taking advantage of the wind. In spite of the terrible wildfires not very far away, our skies continue to remain clear. Currently the smoke is drifting east across the Rocky Mountains into Alberta and creating dreadful air quality. 

Dry conditions prevail and we have not had any rain for over a month. Our lawn is dry and crispy and fire danger is extreme. We are all being very careful. The garden is surviving with regular watering and I've been harvesting a few more vegetables. Lots of zucchini! 

Let's Think of Cooler Days

 

You may have heard that western Canada (and parts of the US) are undergoing an extreme heat wave. Records are falling all over and this system is not predicted to ease until Wednesday. We returned from a wonderful visit with my parents on the 11 am ferry today. Where they live is even hotter, and I am happy that they are staying with my sister and her husband for a few days, as they have air conditioning. 

I'm writing this sitting in our travel trailer with the AC blasting. Most homes here do not have air conditioning. We came home to a very warm house. Tim went up on the roof and covered the skylight with a canvas dropcloth. I have the start of a gazpacho chilling in the fridge for our supper. Appetites decrease in the heat as we drink more and more water. So, let's think of cool things, like boating!

One morning on our trip we woke up to fog enveloping us. It was so beautiful, and I saw a "fog-bow" - like a rainbow - but with very little colour. The photo above was taken when the fog had just about disappeared. It was a perfect bow, and even more amazing, was reflected in the water. 

Here is a photo of the earlier fogbow. The islands are very faintly visible, and you can see a tiny bit of colour on each end of the bow. It was a unique sight for us. 

That same morning one of these swallows flew into the boat for breakfast. He quickly flew out again and joined his mate on the pulpit (bow railing). They sat there for the longest time, chattering to each other in the dissipating fog. 

Some have asked how we live on the boat. Here you can see yours truly, writing in my journal. This area is our "living area" and can be fully opened on each side, with a fixed roof. We eat at the little table and have the best views of wherever we are. I spend time reading, writing, and sketching on the boat. We go for at least one good hike each day, depending where we are, and travel to different anchorages according to our itinerary. Or according to the whim of the moment. 

The door behind the table leads to a small cabin that can be used for sleeping, but we use it as a closet, a pantry, and general storage. 

In the above photo the dinghy is still on the back of the boat, but it's usually in the water, towed behind. It's what we use to get to shore, unless we are tied up to a dock, which is rare. 

Our lunches are casual affairs as seen above. We have a fridge/freezer. On trips more than a few days we use it as a freezer for storing food, and for making ice for an insulated cooler to keep produce and other groceries refrigerated. We eat well. There is a small gas barbecue on the railing where Tim grills meat, and in the galley I have a two-burner gas stove with an oven. I made muffins, soups, pancakes, and even a stovetop pizza on this trip. 

Isn't this columbine a pretty colour? Tim's nephew lives on a small island, away from any towns or villages. We stopped in for a visit. He and his girlfriend have a garden and I was charmed by the delicate pink of this blossom. 

More foggy beauty. Still morning water, an old dock with trees growing in it, layers of mist between the mountain folds and everywhere the tall green trees reach for the sky. 

Do you feel cooler? I do, but it's because of the noisy air conditioner, not the photos. Still, it was a beautiful morning with many marvels. 

Stay cool (or warm) wherever you are. 

Friday Favourites: Five Scenes from Sea and Forest

 

After eleven nights on the water I was glad to arrive home and sleep in my comfortable and spacious bedroom. The trip was wonderful; relaxing and interesting. We boated and hiked, read a lot, met some fascinating people, ate well, and thoroughly enjoyed seeing more of this part of this world. There are thousands of islands and islets between our home island, Vancouver Island (distinct from the city of Vancouver on the mainland), and the rest of our province of British Columbia, Canada. It's a popular place for boaters, but with the border still closed between Canada and the USA only Canadian boats were seen this year. 

There were plenty of scenes like the one above, mountains and ever-changing skies, forested islets and islands, and water that varied from choppy to rolling to smooth. Layers and layers of texture and colour. 

During the last century, this region was populated by fishermen, loggers, trappers, guides, and people just wanting to get away from civilization. Many of the small towns and settlements have disappeared, and the coastal population is much less than in the past. Remnants of settlement linger on abandoned docks like the one above, where a wild rose plant has somehow found enough soil and nutrients to grow and bloom. 

With the availability of satellite internet connections, and the ability to work remotely, more people are moving back to these remote areas. Many are accessible only by water - boat or seaplane. 

From our boat on the first day of our trip we spied the osprey above checking things out. I guess we must have passed inspection for he flew off, looking for fish elsewhere, I assume. 

We watched the heron and the merganser approaching each other from opposite directions and wondered what interaction they might have. Zero. Like ships that pass in the night they gave no indication of being aware of each other, both intent on their own plans.

The world is full of so much that astonishes. "It is a serious thing just to be alive on this fresh morning in this broken world," poet Mary Oliver writes. Tim saw the elaborate spider web on a sailboat (not ours) and pointed it out to me. Each fine filament is beaded with moisture. Such a wonder. 

As Mary says, "Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it."

We're off again to see my parents (hooray) this weekend! It's been 10 months since we've been together. The next few days are predicted to be very hot, so I'm sorting out the lightest summer clothing to wear. 

Have a most wonderful weekend, dear readers.

A Short Getaway: Tumbo and Cabbage Islands

 

In my last post I wrote about my longing to travel, especially to France. The culture and the history of Western Europe and the British Isles are astounding, but I live in an amazing part of the world, too. On this recent long weekend, Tim and I set off to explore part of it in our "hippie boat", as we call it. It's an old boat, imported from Sweden in the 1970s, and it's sturdy and reliable and completely lacking in glamour, but it allows us access to some incredible sights.

Once we push off from the dock, it's as if we leave our daily lives behind. All the things to think about drop away, for there is nothing that can be done about them while we're bobbing on the ocean. The essential ingredients for a good getaway are the two of us, the boat, good food, water (both salt and fresh), and land for hiking. Sunny weather is always appreciated and we had two days of that. 

Our destination was Tumbo and Cabbage Island Provincial Marine Park, about 3.5 hours at our 7-knot speed. From this little park we could see, far away across the Strait of Georgia, the ferry terminal and seaport of Vancouver (Tsawwassen). The islands are connected by a reef that is covered at high tide. We anchored in Reef Cove, a bit surprised at all the boats already there. It was a long weekend, and although we are still restricted to travel within our own health region, people just want to go somewhere, and with boating it's easy to be physically distant. I've written about this place before here. 

On Saturday morning we took the little dinghy to the rock where a yellow rope hangs down from a tree to mark the start of the trail. This island was home to a lot of dreamers over the years, as well as to the First Nations people who fished in these waters. Farmers and miners tried to make a life here, but in the end, the islands became parkland and are left to drowse in the sunlight, or to lie stoic against the wind and rain. 

We walked from one end of the island to the other, around the marsh and cleared farmland, then back along the trail to the dinghy. We take our time, stopping to look at interesting sights, to talk, and to admire the views. 

A long curving beach marks the south end of the island and here a large river otter made short work of a fish he'd caught. 

In the field an abandoned horse-drawn disc is left to rust. While we were talking about it, 

a deer leaped out of the brush and bounded across the field, not even noticing us. Something had startled him and we assume it was a dog for boaters bring their dogs to walk on the shore. 

Around the abandoned farmhouse, a huge rosemary plant threatens to engulf the structure. I think of the woman who planted rosemary there beside the kitchen door, and wonder what became of her. Several old wooden rowboats lie crumbling, nurseries for trees that have grown up through them. More witness to discarded dreams. After several hours of walking we return to the boat ready for a late lunch and a relaxing couple of hours with a good book. On this trip I read "Three Women and a Boat" by Anne Youngson, and thoroughly enjoyed it. 

Last time we visited Cabbage Island we noticed an eagle's nest high in a tree overlooking the water. It was occupied again this year by just one eaglet. We watched the mother swoop in and begin to feed her baby, probably with some gruesome thing we don't want to know about. Bald-headed eagles are quite common here, sitting in trees or swooping down in search of prey. 

In the evening we grill something on our little boat barbecue and watch the sunset over the islands to the west. It's truly relaxing and we never get bored. 

I know a lot of my readers explore their own backyards and write about them on their blogs. I always enjoy seeing the different ways of recreation we all experience. 

Summer Along the Coast

I am so pleased to announce that summer has finally arrived in our corner. Temperatures this week will be between 21 and 25 degrees Celsius (70-77 F), with sunshine everyday. The good weather began over the weekend, while we were out for a short jaunt on Solitude. 

As we slip away from shore we leave behind the cares of land and focus on the moments. We're in our own world, an enormous expanse of sea, our small boat bobbing on the waves, with rocks and forest still visible. 

We normally prefer anchoring out in a small inlet or cove away from civilization, but for this trip we visited Ladysmith, a small town on Vancouver Island, and stayed in the marina there. It was very quiet.

One of the delights of boating is that there is nothing to call one's attention away from the main business at hand - relaxing and observing. On both evenings, as the light softened, a heron picked its way along the logs for a little preening and fishing. Doesn't he have amazing balance?

Solitude is a slow boat - we go about 7 knots - leaving plenty of time for conversation and silence, for wandering through my mazy mind. I noticed a large crevice in the rocks and I fancy it looks like a silhouette of a bird, beak pointing right, carved there on the hill. Do you see it? 

Lately, people have been recommending podcasts to me. I signed up for a couple, but can't bring myself to listen to them. I'm sure they are most interesting, but I'm quite content with the interior monologue that goes on inside my head. Do you listen to podcasts? With earbuds or headphones or broadcast from a computer? I also hate things in my ears. 

The heron in the photo above looks not at all concerned about the slug-like seals nearby. 

The coast of Vancouver Island is very much a working one. Pulp mills along this coast have ramped up their production of  medical grade soft red cedar pulp for use in masks and other personal protective equipment during the pandemic.

I always enjoy watching the tugboats at work. They are so mobile and can turn on a dime. Not visible in this photo is the worker who stepped off the tug and made his way along the log boom, looking as if he was walking on the sidewalk on land. 

For dinner one night we walked up the hill into town and ate at the Fox and Hounds, touted as the place to go for British pub fare. Outside, a red telephone box clearly indicates the British vibe. Inside, dark wood floors, Tudor-style beams, a long wooden bar, and lots of British knickknacks lining shelves and windowsills contributed to the traditional pub feel. The food was great - I had a seafood pot pie that was scrumptious, and Tim enjoyed a burger with fat chips, as hot as can be. Fewer tables and other procedures let us know that care was taken regarding the pandemic. 

Next to the marina was a sawmill with log booms where seagulls hung out, mostly keeping social distance. 

Home again now. Tim's off to work and the laundry is churning away. As for me, a little gardening, some cooking, and some sewing today. There will be time for reading, too. A perfect summer day! I wish the same for you!

It's Friday - A Short Boating Excursion

 "Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing - absolutely nothing half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats." Kenneth Grahame (Wind in the Willows)

Last weekend, as restrictions began to ease, we launched the boat and spent a quiet and relaxing couple of nights on the water, just an hour away from home. The weather alternated between rain and cloud, cloud and rain, with a very few patches of blue sky here and there. On Friday evening, before the weather worsened, we hopped into the dinghy and toured along the shoreline. It was very peaceful until the Canada Geese decided we were coming too close and honked loudly to warn others of our proximity. 

This was our view the next morning. Still, with soft rain falling. No matter, we were cozy and dry, and enjoyed a good breakfast and cups of tea and coffee long into the morning. There was no rush to do much of anything. 

When the rain eased we stirred ourselves and took the dinghy to shore, beaching it on the sand and tying the painter to a driftwood log before setting off on a hike through the forest. 

We stopped and watched a variety of wildlife, including this group of fat seals lounging on the rocks. A pair of seal pups had enough of the inactivity. They played together like a pair of young boys, splashing and wrestling. The repeated whacks of their tails on the water echoed far. 

A pair of oyster-catchers poked along the inter-tidal zone with their long red beaks. From the boat that evening we watched seven river otters fishing for their supper. Down they went into the water, then up into the air with their catch wriggling until - gulp - down the gullet it went. Over and over the sleek otters dove and rose until, satisfied, they melted away into the dusk. 

This pair of geese appear to be having a disagreement. The one on the left was quite vocal as he/she marched off in the opposite direction. 

In 1958 Portland Island was given to Princess Margaret, our Queen's sister, to commemorate her visit to our province. She returned it in 1967 and it is now a park. But long before then First Nations peoples had a village here. In the mid-late 1800s Hawaiians settled here, planting orchards and gardens. There is little that remains, but in the abandoned orchard a pair of bright goldfinches caught my eye. 

Weathered pieces of sea glass always catch my eye and I pick them up to add to my collection here at home. 

We returned home on Sunday, with Monday a holiday here to commemorate Queen Victoria's birthday. I worked in the garden most of the day. It's starting to fill out and soon we will be enjoying more homegrown vegetables. The first strawberries are turning red and I did eat one luscious ripe juicy fruit. 

It's been another week of distance teaching. Students will have the option to return to school as of June 1, but it's unlikely that many of those in the high school will choose that option. 

We're looking forward to some family time this coming weekend, including a visit from our Vancouver people. Little Miss Iris is coming and I can hardly wait to see her. She's almost one and so much fun via Skype! Seeing her in person will be so much more fun! 

Have a great weekend, friends. 

Boats and Beaches

Just a few years ago our children laughed gently at us for wanting to make plans more than a few hours in advance. "Be spontaneous," they said. So we tried. 

Fast forward a few years. Spontaneity is out the window, as once the grandchildren appeared, schedules ruled and calendars must be coordinated far in advance. 

So when the wind blew on a cloudy Sunday morning, Tim and I looked at each other and wondered if the planned-in-advance boating outing should go ahead. We decided to give it a try -we could always turn back and do something else, if needed. We're so flexible that way, now, you know. 

The wind lessened considerably before we left, but the clouds intensified. "Splat, splat" against the windshield went the rain. It looked like the sandpails and shovels were not going to be needed, after all. We ate lunch on the boat, then set out for a walk, first in the woods, then along the beach. 

We saw a number of Great Blue Herons, a Bald Eagle, a pair of River Otters, numerous Gulls, and a Killdeer faking a broken wing to lure a dog away from its nest. Very few people.

It was a monotone day, grey lightened by splotches of pale sand and yellow-green grasses. We got wet; my hair frizzled, my feet were cold. But boy, did we have fun!

These two cousins ran back and forth amongst the lions (aka adults), hid in the forest, explored the beaches, dammed up a small tricklet of water, giggled and chatted. Riding on an uncle and grandpa's shoulders gave them a wee break from running back and forth. I'm certain they put in quadruple the steps we adults took. 

A brick factory once operated on Sidney Island and evidence is left in the spread of broken bricks on the beach. Someone began piling up a few of them, and our two young adventurers contributed.

Although I'm longing for some warmth and sunshine, I'm learning to find the loveliness present in almost every moment. The layers of sky, sand, and sea on Sidney Spit undulate across the horizon in an ever-changing, ever-fascinating roll-out of subtle colour and dramatic texture.

Linking with Mosaic Monday, hosted by Angie of Letting Go of the Bay Leaf.