Snippets from the Mountains

 

On the first Sunday of September, we locked the door and drove to the ferry, towing our travel trailer behind us. Once across the Strait, we drove to my parents' home in Abbotsford and enjoyed lunch and a short visit with them before driving over the Coastal Mountains, across the Interior plain, and into the Columbia Mountains. 

The town of Revelstoke was a good place to spend two nights. We walked along the river in the evening, admiring the vast Columbia River that begins in BC and loops its way through the mountains before crossing the border into Washington State. A stone arch commemorating workers seemed fitting on Labour Day weekend. Mount Begbie is seen in the distance. 

Once, when I was very young, my parents took my sister and me to The Enchanted Forest. For nostalgia's sake, Tim and I revisited the place on our trip. He had never been there. It's a place full of whimsy and fairy tales. My one distinct memory was of a large egg with a window in it through which one could peer in to see a medieval village. The egg was still there, and it was still enchanting. 

Above is the straw home of the first little pig. The buildings are small scale, child-sized, but I saw a number of adults crouching in to walk through them. It was a fun trip down memory lane.

Not too far across the highway was Three Valley Gap, where an enterprising gentleman who wanted to save the history of the area bought a large piece of property, and over many years he moved historical buildings onto it, creating an old town. Above is St. Stephen's Church, built in 1887 in the town of Donald, moved to the town of Field in 1902, and finally to Three Valley Gap in 1967. 

The buildings, including school houses and a three-story hotel, were dismantled board by board and reconstructed. 

One of the rules for teachers from 1872 that hung in one of the old schoolhouses stated that "Male teachers may take one evening each week for courting purposes, or two evenings a week if they attend church regularly." Another rule stated "Teachers each day will fill the lamps, trim the wicks, and clean chimneys." 

From Revelstoke we traveled into the Rocky Mountains (there are range after range of mountains, but they are collectively known as the Rockies). The town of Golden was our stopping place for several nights. Here we met up with two of Tim's siblings and their spouses and enjoyed good food and good times around the fire, along with some fun activities. 

Tim and I visited the Golden Skybridge, a new attraction featuring Canada's highest suspension bridge. Two suspension bridges cross a very deep canyon. 

When we lived in the jungle in Ecuador, a suspension bridge over a river connected the hospital where Tim worked with the property where we lived. We all got very used to walking across it, although it took me a little bit of time to do so. Although the Golden Skybridge is much longer and much higher, I felt that I could walk across it without too much difficulty. 

I did have Tim walk in front of me so that I could focus on his back rather than a vast amount of space ahead of me. Looking down didn't bother me, but looking out across the expanse did. 

On the far side of the canyon a wooden beam is suspended for the sole purpose of taking photos. However, the bench is not stable and requires some balancing to actually let go and "touch the sky". 

I thought I could get away with hanging on with one hand and was just about to get down after another tourist took the photo, when someone else said, "she didn't let go!" And here I thought I could get away with cropping the photo to make it look like I had. So, another photo was taken and I let go for a very short second. The bench was very wobbly! 

 

With Tim's brother and sister we visited Wapta Falls on the Kicking Horse River. The hike was mostly level until the very end. This is the view from the top of the falls, thundering and crashing tons of water. 

We hiked down into the river bed, and could walk out to face the falls as the water level was low. The rocks were such pretty colours and shapes, smoothed by the water. 

The falling water created huge sprays of mist that dampened our hair and clothing. It was exhilarating to stand there and experience the power of the falls up close. We climbed onto the small hill in front of the falls to watch the water tumble down. 

During the spring and early summer the area we walked on is covered by water. These stone structures were built by others who walked here, and some winter/spring, they will be washed into the river. 

I hope you've enjoyed this little taste of the mountains of British Columbia. There are more experiences to share. I am always amazed at the beauty and magnificence of our province. I was surprised at how many tourists were in the area - from Europe and the UK, and Asia. Our air border opened to vaccinated visitors on September 7, and the visitors we spoke with said that they flew as soon as they could. 

I'm not quite ready to travel internationally yet, and was very glad to spend our vacation exploring closer to home. 

Have a wonderful new week, dear readers. 

Popping in to say Hello

 

Hello there! 

It's been a drippy, grey morning here at home. We arrived last evening around 5:30 and I immediately went out into the garden to collect produce before the expected rain during the night. I gathered 13 pounds of tomatoes and many of them are now roasting in the oven, destined for the freezer. The kitchen is filled with warm fragrance. 

We had a most wonderful vacation in the Canadian Rockies. What a stunning world we live in - so much beauty at every turn. I'll share a few special sights in the coming days.

For today, the washer and drier are whirling, and as soon as the tomatoes are roasted I'll be heading to purchase some groceries. 

While we were away autumn arrived with much cooler temperatures and much needed rain. 

I'll be slowly visiting your blogs and catching up over the next few days. 

Have a good weekend!

Circling Spring Break

Some of the names and geography of the west coast of Canada can be confusing. For example, we live on Vancouver Island, but the City of Vancouver is on the mainland. The mainland coast is a tangled line that curls around deeply cut fjords and rocky islands of all sizes. The area known as the Sunshine Coast, on the mainland, is accessible only by ferry. 

Last weekend, Tim and I drove north on our island (Vancouver Island) to catch a ferry back to the Sunshine Coast. We spent a few days in Powell River, then took another ferry to Earl's Cove for some more vacation time, then a ferry to Vancouver. We drove through the city to catch yet another ferry, our usual one, back to Victoria. We made a circle. Ferry, car, ferry, car, ferry, car, and so on.

What can I say - it was a spectacular trip! Cloudless blue skies, calm seas, comfortable lodgings, good food, and lots of walking. 

Lakes versus ocean. It's a hard choice. I grew up with lakes - our family went camping and fishing, but I've come to love the ocean, as well. I don't have to make a choice, do I? 

The catkins are forming on the trees, but we didn't see many new leaves until we returned home. 

On one of our ferry rides, from Saltery Bay to Earl's Cove, I just couldn't stay inside. I went out on deck and found a sweet spot where I was mostly sheltered from the wind caused by the ferry movement and I drank in the beauty all around me.

Mountains pierced the blue sky while small rocky islands drowsed in the morning sun. White gulls caught the light as they flew against the backdrop of fir and pine forests. It was achingly beautiful.

One day we hiked to Skookumchuck Narrows, famous for its rapids and whirlpools caused by the twice-daily tide change where the difference in height between one side of the rapids and the other can sometimes equal 9 feet. The Narrows draws thrill-seekers from around the globe to kayak and dive here.

The only divers were saw were a large raft of Barrow's Goldeneye sea ducks riding the currents, bobbing, ducking, splashing, having great fun.

We visited Gibsons Landing, where the 1970-80s CBC production The Beachcombers was filmed. That series brought many people to the area, and the town pays homage to the show with displays of the boat, photos of the actors, and a restaurant named Molly's Reach, modeled after the one in the show.  
  

Another day we walked into Smuggler Cove, a place we visited by boat in the summer of 2016. This was our last full day and pale wisps of cloud streaked the sky, signaling the end of the clear blue.

Now we're home. This morning I went out for groceries and I'm catching up on laundry. Several trees on our street burst into bloom while we were away and I look out my window to see clouds of pink and white blossoms. So pretty. I'm itching to get out into the garden and that's where I'm headed this afternoon. 

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

Note: I'm working on my blog layout and am having a terrible time with the sidebar gadgets overlapping the text. I've removed them for now - anyone know how to fix this? I've tried the CSS code available online, but that doesn't seem to be working.  

To the Wilderness and Home Again

Ready for an adventure? Tim and I arrived home last night after two weeks in the Broughton Archipelago. You've probably never heard of it, a cluster of islands situated between northern Vancouver Island and the mainland in the Canadian province of British Columbia. It's remote, sparsely populated by humans, and it's wild and beautiful. 

We towed our 25 foot boat to Port McNeill and launched it one evening. Our first night was spent in the marina, and in the morning we set off to explore. Low clouds hung from the mountains, and even rose from the sea, as seen above. Anticipation mixed with mystery. 

As we chugged past Cormorant Island into Blackfish Sound, I noticed lots of small, almost tailless birds flying low and swift over the surface of the water. Hauling out my trusty bird identification book, we determined they were Rhinoceros Auklets. Although they live in the waters further south near our home, I've never noticed them before. Here, they were everywhere. 

They are chunky looking birds, related to puffins. They breed in the temperate North Pacific and spend a lot of daylight hours on the water, fishing for food which they take back to their nests in the evening. The auklets frequently stood up in the water and flapped their wings. They get the rhinoceros name for that little white horn above the beak. 

Just as we were leaving Blackfish Sound for Village Channel, Tim saw a whale blow. We slowed the boat down to idle and watched over the next few moments as the Humpback Whale surfaced and blew 4 or 5 times, then, with a show of his tail, dove deep and disappeared. 

We spent the first night anchored off of Crease Island in a quiet little bay. When Tim took sailing lessons, his instructor referred to the many rocks and islets that dot our waters as "chunky bits". There were lots of chunky bits in the Broughtons. 

We wound our way through kelp beds and around chunky bits before dropping anchor for the night. Then, it started raining. A good time to haul out books and make tea. Just perfect. 

The skies cleared early evening and as we sat eating our dinner, enjoying the utter peace, two bald eagles came screaming overhead, fighting over a fish which one carried and then dropped in the water. 

One eagle flew up to perch in a tree, looking very unconcerned and nonchalant about the whole affair, while the other skimmed across the water and made a few grabs with his talons. 

In the end, I think he got the fish, or another one, and flew off to enjoy it on his own. The other eagle sat for a long time in the tree, perhaps looking for another fish to grab.

We slept like babies that night, lulled by the gentle movement of the boat, the fresh air, and the knowledge that there was nothing we needed to do in the foreseeable future. 

On Planning a Vacation and Flowers in the Rain

Raindrops on peonies, and roses, and clematis. Fat round droplets that chill the air and moisture the landscape. Much needed as we face another warm summer.

(As a note to my previous post, Vee's husband passed away on Saturday morning. Please continue to pray for Vee as she faces this huge loss.) 

Layers of ruffles tightly folded. Waiting to emerge. I do love peonies.

But this post was supposed to be about vacation planning. I'm wondering how you do it. 

Deciding where to go is the first step. Last summer we chose Europe. It's been 9 years since we were there together, and 7 since I went with my mom and sister. The UK, specifically England, has been on the list for awhile, so that was easy. But where else? 

Spain was in the works for a long time. However, once friends suggested a river cruise (Paris to Honfleur), and the dates worked with our already purchased airline tickets, we scrapped Spain for France. Next time, Spain.

Going on a cruise or tour simplifies planning. We've chosen our excursions and have more or less decided what to do with our day and a half in Paris. La Sainte Chapelle is top on my list, and we're planning to attend a concert of classical music there.

The cruise is taking a big chunk out of the UK portion of our trip. We've scrunched London down to two days (not nearly enough) and will be driving to the Cotswolds and then Wales to visit a cousin. 

Am I nervous about driving on the "wrong" side of the road? You bet! 

History fascinates me, and Tim is always interested in the way things work and how they are built. I like filling in blanks, chronologically speaking, so these things are on the list:

- an Iron/Bronze/Stone Age hill fort
- pre-Norman architecture 
- a motte and bailey fortification (or the remnants of such)
- a medieval castle or two
- a great estate house (think Highclere of Downton Abbey fame, although we're not going to be in that area)

We're also interested in doing lots of walking, so I've downloaded a walking tour along a canal in the Cotswolds beginning in Stroud, that takes us by old woollen mills and mining sites.

It's fun to find unexpected things along the way - wandering in Paris on our last time there, we found the location of Heloise and Abelard's dwelling and thought of their sad love story. Getting lost in the Egyptian antiquities in the Louvre was memorable, and a day at Versailles full of the echoes of history in spite of the crowds. We found a completely deserted garden there and sat for a long while, absorbing, thinking, and munching apples.

In Avignon we rented a motor scooter and drove out to the Pont du Gard. It was a hot day and we'd tucked our swimming suits into the day back, just in case. After seeing others swimming in the river, we changed behind some bushes and waded in. Refreshing and cool - and don't you think the slaves/soldiers who built that bridge likely cooled off the same way 2000 years ago?

So we've found that allowing for spontaneity as well as some planning makes for a good vacation. 

How about you? Do you plan to the hour or half day or do you have a rough plan or do things spontaneously? Inquiring minds would love to know.

 

Mini-Vacation

Things have been hectic for both of us recently. A mini-vacation seemed to be in order, and what better place to relax than on the water. Tim readied the boat and I haphazardly threw food together and off we went, to Tod Inlet for two nights. 

The photo is of our little boat in the inlet, taken from shore. I played with the watercolour options in Photoshop Elements to get the above effect.

As we ate dinner on Friday night (salads and roasted chicken courtesy of our local grocer's), I looked around and wondered where Tim had stowed the blankets. 

Hmmm. Seems like we'd forgotten them. What to do? Return to the launch, unhook the trailer from the truck and one of us return to town? That would take a long time and we'd be boating and finding anchorage in the dark. Another thought - the entrance to Butchart Gardens was a short dinghy ride and walk away - would our son be willing to give up some of his Friday night to bring us our bedding? Yes, he was. Wonderful son! 

We were VERY grateful for the quilts as the nights are still chilly. 

The woods around Tod Inlet are full of bluebells. A few lilac bushes stand alongside old drives and the remnants of house foundations. Apple trees are in flower, another reminder of days gone by when the inlet was a bustling community.

Lunches are simple affairs. The jar holds a peppery tomato jam that I made last summer and is a wonderful accompaniment to bread, cheese, sausage and vegetables.

These pilings are all that's left of the busy dock that once stood here. The tall ones are now homes for purple martins, and in the evening they swoop and chatter, possibly relating the events of the day before going in for the night.

We, too, are home again, the laundry is sloshing away, and all is ready for another week of work. Two days of reading, paddling, and walking might not seem like much, but I feel rested and raring to go! 

Do you take mini-vacations? What restores your mental and physical energy? 

How to Fill a Day

This is a rather longer post - a reflection on a day spent away from normal life.

We awake to the sound of water gently slapping the hull. Another boater is passing by, up earlier than we are. Sunlight glares from the window above us since we left the curtain partially open to watch the night stars as we fell asleep.

morning in Annette Inlet

 In the morning the day stretches ahead of us, long, lovely hours. How we will fill them? There's no list of things to do, no errands to run, no schedule to keep. Will we be bored by day's end?

I stretch, dress, and make my way to the cockpit where open sides let me lean over the boat edge. I stare into the water below. It's a moving highway of life. As the tide ebbs, bits and pieces from our snug inlet anchorage drift out into the channel. Tiny translucent moon jellyfish, scarcely an inch in diameter, contract and push to get wherever they need to go. Suspended filaments twist gracefully in the current. What are they? I toy with taking a course or two in marine biology.

Shadows in the water - see how the dead head and its shadow form an arrow? Perhaps it points to secret treasure.

In the compact galley I prepare breakfast - bacon, pancakes, and fresh pineapple. A pot of tea. Maple syrup and butter. We eat in the cockpit with the fresh air blowing across our small table. We talk of this and that and nothing much, the desultory talk of two people long accustomed to breakfasting together. 

I heat water to wash dishes. He dries. "What shall we do?" one or the other says. I decide to go out in the dinghy, exploring. He chooses to stay on the boat and putter. Man plus boat equals intense puttering.

Life above and below the water

Life vest on, I clamber into the dinghy and begin to row away from the boat. He waves. 

Last night when we arrived, the tide was very low, exposing large rocks. The tide is high now, barely ebbing and the rocks are mostly covered. I row over to check them out. Balancing the oars on the dinghy sides, I drift along the barnacled and shell-encrusted rocks. Crabs scurry to safety when my shadow covers them. Schools of tiny fish dart in unison. Long ribbons of kelp and sea lettuce wave gracefully. 

Continuing along the shoreline I startle half a dozen robins from their low hanging branch. They fly off in a hurry and alight not too far away. Deadfalls lean into the water, creating shadows where larger fish hide. If I am still I see them there, waiting. 

After an hour of paddling and watching, I return to the boat. I see that Tim has hung the Canadian flag and it flaps brightly in the wind.

Solitude anchored in James Bay off Prevost Island

We decide to weigh anchor and find a hiking trail. On the same island is a small park. We anchor the boat again, take the dinghy ashore and begin hiking to Peile Point. Our guidebook warns that this is a sheep trail and so we find it. Sheep appear to be more agile than we are, clambering up and down steep rocky inclines. We know that it's a sheep trail for they've left clumps of creamy, soft wool behind. Trail markers, perhaps?

Tim sitting on the rocks below the lighthouse at Peile Point

Hot and sweaty we arrive at the lighthouse point. We sit on the rocks eating apples, nuts and dried fruit and wishing we'd brought our lunch. A seal swims by just to take a look. Reassured, he soon returns to his rocky sunbathing some distance off. A bald eagle soars overhead and alights in a tall tree. White sails dot the ocean. A tidal pool holds a small reddish purple crab, several tiny fish, barnacles and pebbles. On the water-covered rocks below we see starfish, purple and orange, and rows of purple mussels.

Peile Point lighthouse from the water

We return to the boat. Three hours have passed. We're hungry and break out the salami, cheese, bread and crudités. We decide to go to Montague Harbour for the night. Half an hour to cross Trincomali Channel, another half hour to decide where to anchor. I read a book. He reads a magazine. Often the reading material falls to our laps as we gaze out at the world around us. He takes a nap, then decides to go exploring in the dinghy. I stay aboard to finish my book.

Light filtering through spring green maple leaves

We cook dinner late. He grills a marinated pork tenderloin on the barbecue mounted on the back rail of the boat. I cook asparagus and re-heat some vegetables I'd roasted at home. Coleslaw with a peanut dressing. Red wine. Before the sun sinks away we take the dinghy ashore and walk up the road for 20 minutes or so. Once aboard again I make two mugs of hot chocolate. He eats a couple of cookies and I have a square (or two) of dark chocolate. We talk and watch the light fade. We see the glow from other anchored boats - a neighbourly sight although we know no one. 

Just after 10 pm we crawl into bed. The waves have died down and the boat is still, barely turning on her anchor as we fall asleep. Just one day left.

As the light fades - Annette Inlet

 
 How will we fill the hours that stretch ahead?