A Rainy Day Road Trip

 

Above is Saanich Inlet, curving around steep, tree-covered mountains, layer upon layer, with clouds drifting in the valleys. Even on a rainy day, it's a beautiful sight. 

My husband celebrated a birthday last week. We like to make the day special and I planned it, not telling him where we were going until just before. The Malahat Skywalk is a new attraction, built by the Malahat First Nation. An elevated boardwalk leads from the visitor centre to the spiral tower through the coastal rainforest. There is no elevator at the tower, but walking up the 10 storey structure is made easy by 600 metres of gradual incline. 

The view over Saanich Inlet is broad and extends to many of the islands surrounding us. 

A curving slide is one way down. Tim chose the slide. I chose the walkway. He was at the bottom long before I was. Maybe next time I'll try the slide. 

Lunch was next on the agenda. We tried out a new pub overlooking Shawnigan Lake. Raindrops splashed the water while we enjoyed good food and warming tea (for me) and coffee (for him). 

I thought we could visit the Kinsol Trestle next. Rain kept falling, but we had our rain gear along. Construction on the wooden rail trestle began in 1914 but was halted due to the First World War. After the war, construction resumed and was completed in 1920. The railway was used to transport logs to sawmills and ports. In 1979 the last railcar passed over the trestle. 

The Kinsol Trestle is one of the highest wooden trestles in the world, standing 44 metres above the river, and stretching 187 metres long. When we first visited this spot about 20 years ago, a fire from 1988 had destroyed some of the structure, making it uncrossable. 

A conservation project began in 2008, replacing damaged beams. Each beam was carved with its place in the structure and those marks can be seen today. Handrails were added to the sides of the railbed, making it safer to walk. 

We walked the length of the trestle and then underneath, looking up through the timbers to the heart of the structure. Moss covers the cement foundation piers. 

Our recorded history is not long compared with Europe. However, I think of the effort it took to make such a railway through the dense forest and over rivers in deep canyons. It took perseverance and determination. 

It was a fun day for the two of us. On Saturday we held a family party with the children and grandchildren - chaotic and enjoyable. 

A Little Escape

 

Campgrounds are open in our area, with precautions in place, and they are already full. We took our little Escape trailer (caravan) to Nanaimo for a week of rest and relaxation. I confess that my expectations were very low. I didn't want to be cold, and wasn't certain how comfortable the trailer would be. I need not have worried - it was warm and cozy. We enjoyed mostly good weather with chilly mornings, a bit of rain, and some lovely sunshine. The view above was our view for 5 mornings - high tide where the Nanaimo River estuary meets the sea. 

And this was the afternoon view at low tide (from a slightly different angle) where the river and sea curve their paths through the mud flats and grassy banks. In the distance several large cargo ships lie at anchor, perhaps awaiting loading at one of the local sawmills or pulp mills. 

The river estuary is home to many, many birds. On a gravel bar, a group of young bald eagles, watched over by an adult, were tearing at some unknown prey. A very brave crow looks like it is scolding the impassive eagle who looks as though he could make short shrift of the saucy crow. 

Early signs of spring were everywhere. Tiny unfurling green leaves, catkins, and even early pink rhododendron blossoms acted as harbingers of the season. 

We took a number of hikes during the week - twice to the Cable Bay Trail and Joan Point to see the current at Dodds Narrows. Once at slack tide when boats can safely pass, and once when the current raged. We sat on a rock with our thermos of hot tea and watched the water boil and churn. Several groups of sleek sea lions had a wonderful time riding the current, then diving and swimming upstream again to do it all over again, just for fun. You can just see the head of one sea lion in the photo above. 

Out of the main channel, this quiet cove looks almost tropical. Don't be fooled - the water is extremely cold, and a sharp wind made us glad for gloves, wind-proof jackets, and toques. We saw a Great Blue Heron standing motionless on the rock there. We were as quiet as could be and watched him for some time, but then he caught wind of us and lifted off with a slow beat of his wide wings to a more remote perch. 

We read books, ate well, drank tea, and came home rested. This week is also a vacation week for my husband, and we were planning a trip to the mainland to see my parents, but the restrictions are still in place and we are staying home. 

I'm looking forward to catching up with my blogging friends over the next few days. 

A Few Days on the Wild "Wet" Coast

 

Vancouver Island lies roughly parallel to the mainland of North America. Between the continent and the Island are many smaller islands and islets. Land is almost always visible from anywhere in these waters.

However, the west coast of the Island faces the open ocean, with a clear view to nowhere. Japan and the Asian continent lie far across the waves. The Pacific Rim National Park stretches along the coastline and includes the West Coast Trail, the Broken Group Islands, and the Long Beach Unit. It's this latter section that we visited. 

The road climbs up over several mountains and winds in tight curves through narrow passes and along enormous Kennedy Lake to arrive in the Park. It's difficult to reserve a spot to camp in the Park itself - our son and his family reserved in January. We stayed in another private campsite with our camping caravan/trailer, about 15 minutes drive away. 

We enjoyed hot weather (not too hot) a couple of days before leaving, but once we got down to the ocean, the temperatures dropped to 22 degrees, then to 17 degrees for most of our stay. Fog and cloud rolled in, followed by drenching rain and strong winds.

We put on our rain gear and enjoyed the scenery. The Wild Pacific Trail offered the views in the above three photos. 

Someone amplified the out-of-bound warnings. We saw no wolves, bears, nor cougars.

The Amphitrite Lighthouse is active, and can be accessed by road. It's not open to the public, but the trail passes close by. There is a webcam of the waters around the lighthouse, and I see that today the water and sky are blue, and there is no fog, very unlike our time there. 

This area was known as the Graveyard of the Pacific; several thousand ships have floundered and sunk in the waters stretching from the mouth of the Columbia River in the USA to Cape Scott on the northern tip of Vancouver Island. Shifting sandbars, rocks and reefs have claimed many lives over the past few hundred years, and likely before Europeans first explored the area.

This is part of an unnamed wreck that sank in the late 1800s. Rusted iron and weathered planks of Douglas Fir are all that remain. 

On the other side of the Pacific Rim Reserve is the more sheltered water of Grice Bay. We drove down the narrow road one evening as the sun was setting.Tim wandered to the water while I took photos where blues and greys melded in tranquil harmony. 

On our last evening there, in the drizzle and wind, we went one last time to Long Beach. Lovekin Rock stands ominous and dark, and swimmers and surfers are warned to stay away from the rock because of strong rip currents. Driftwood lies abandoned by the waves on the sand. It is a place of many moods, and this particular moment felt full of mystery and shadowed loveliness. 

We enjoyed our time seeing this part of our Island, in spite of the inclement weather. Our son and his family were in a tent trailer and decided to pack it in two days earlier than planned. We helped them pack up in pouring rain. It was so crazy that it was funny. 

And now the summer is almost over. Tim returns to work on Monday and I begin in-service on August 31. How will this school year look? 

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!

Friday: Through the Forest to the Beach

Good morning on the first full day of Spring. We are enjoying a spell of beautiful sunshine with some real warmth pouring down. These clear days mean chilly nights, and a bit of frost, but I won't complain about that. 

Tim and I had a week of vacation planned that was curtailed by the global situation we are all in the midst of. We did manage a couple of days away. Vancouver Island is 460 kilometres in length (290 miles). We live in the very south of the island, and we traveled northwards to Port Hardy, very near the northern tip. 

We visited San Josef Bay and that took a bit of time. From our hotel we drove 2 hours on an unpaved road that crossed the island from east to west. The road grew rougher as we neared the parking lot for San Josef Bay and we were glad to have a sturdy vehicle (Tahoe) and not my small car. 

Before arriving at the park, Tim asked me how many cars did I think would be there. My guess was 2 plus ours, his guess was 1 plus ours. We were surprised to see 6 vehicles in the lot - a popular place in spite of the distance. After putting on our hiking boots and loading our backpacks we set off through the woods. The trail is beautiful, mostly level, with small bridges and boardwalks over soggy areas. 

This is a remote area that was used by First Nations peoples for fishing. Two groups of settlers tried to establish communities here in the early 20th century, without success. We followed a small trail to where a homestead once stood. There are a few pieces of rusting metal stove in a clearing, and clumps of snowdrops that bear silent witness to someone planting a bit of familiar beauty in the wild. 

The forest trail opens abruptly onto an immense and beautiful wide beach. The tide was falling and white ruffled waves rolled up the shallow sand, then fell gently back. Gulls rose above the blue sea, bright against the dark forest, circling and crying before settling again onto the pale sand. 

On a headland to the right, rugged sea stacks, carved out over time by sea and wind, stand like sentinels in rough formation separating two beaches. Exploring them reminded me of wandering through some of Europe's magnificent architecture as they evoked the same sense of awe and of my own smallness. 

The irrepressible nature of life is seen on the top of each stack where small trees flourish in spite of the harsh conditions. 
Because of the brilliant day, photos were difficult. If you do a search for San Josef Bay online, you'll see some much better ones. 

We ate our picnic lunch enjoying the warm sun and stunning view.

Our rambling route back took us to Winter Harbour where tall ships once overwintered and where 7-12 people now live year round. It's a destination for sports fishermen and the population swells during the summer to several hundred, according to the woman who sold us a few snacks at the local store. 

Above is the morning view from our hotel room in Port Hardy.

Spring comes later on the north island, but bright robins flitted everywhere, a sure sign of warmer days to come. 

Listening to the news reports had us longing to be home, so we cut our trip short and drove home on another beautifully sunny day. I've been working in the garden, taking some solitary walks, and have many plans for things to do here at home. 

I've posted two videos of San Josef Bay on Instagram. You don't need to join to view them, and here's a link to my page Lorrie.Orr.Creative. 

I hope that you are faring well during these strange days. These are days to think of what's important in life, to gather strength for the days to come, and to lean heavily on God, if you are a person of faith. Check in with your loved ones, and with those around you. I spoke with my neighbour across the fence. She has a compromised immune system, is elderly, and is self-isolating. For now, she says she needs nothing, but is rather bored. If she needs a few groceries we've offered to help. We will get through this. The world may look very different on the other side, but by God's grace we will make it through.

A Place of Harmony - Sointula

Utopia: an imagined place or state of things in which everything is perfect

Sir Thomas More, who coined the word utopia, and wrote a novel by the same name, very likely never imagined how many communities would be formed in hope of achieving a perfect society. 

In the late 1800s, Finnish immigrants came to Vancouver Island in search of a better life. Many of them worked in the coal mines. One of them, a man by the name of Kurrika, dreamed of a place where Finns could live an ideal life. He the Kalevan Kansa Colonization Company Limited to encourage more Finns to immigrate to Canada. 

He traveled up and down the coast, looking for land suitable for building such a community. In 1901, the provincial government granted the Kalevan Kansa Company ownership of Malcom Island. The island was promptly renamed Sointula, which means "harmony." 

Here a few hardy souls attempted to create paradise from the wilderness. The task was unending. The colony was soon in debt for they discovered that making a living in this rough environment was an arduous business. Logging, fishing and agriculture proved insufficient. A disastrous fire combined with debt and disillusionment led to the dissolution of the colony within 10 years of its inception. Most of the Finnish immigrants left, but a few stayed, and other settlers joined them. 

Today, Sointula is a small community whose members continue to struggle to make ends meet. Our neighbours grew up on the island and left for economic reasons about 20 years ago. 

The houses are neat and most are painted in colours that bring brightness to the many grey, rainy days of the area. It's a gorgeous island. We drove out to Bere Point Campground. 

Someone created this unique bench that has a view over the water. 
The sun shone while we were there, and the air was very fresh and cold.

Orca whales come to these beaches to rub their tummies on the rocks. Here's a link to a youtube video showing the whales. We didn't see any whales during our visit to the beach.

While we were on the beach, a bald eagle lifted off from a tree just above us. I pointed my camera straight up to get this shot. 

Enormous trees with tangles of roots lie on the beaches, thrown up as if they were toothpicks by the power of the waves.

We visited Sointula in late March during our road trip to the north island. Each island has its own culture and history, all fascinating. 

Linking with Mosaic Monday, hosted by Maggie of Normandy Life. 

Alert Bay

As we boarded the ferry for our 40-minute ride to Cormorant Island, three snowy peaks drifted in and out of our sight line, sometimes obscured by another island, then visible again as we made headway. I've not been able to discover their name, but they made a stunning backdrop for a day of exploration.

Alert Bay is a small community of 1200-1500 people on Cormorant Island. The Namgis First Nation has the largest population (600-750 people), with the remainder composed of the Village of Alert Bay and the Kwakwaka'wakw Tribes. Alert Bay is named for the Royal Navy ship HMS Alert which conducted surveys in the area around 1860. 

The island is a quiet place in the off season, and becomes busier once the tourism season begins. We had hoped to visit the U'mista Cultural Centre, but it was closed. We wandered through town, glad for our layers of clothing as a sharp, cold wind blew across the water.

We admired the handiwork of the many totem poles throughout the village. The older poles have lost their colour, and I found them more evocative, standing tall after years of exposure to harsh weather.

A piece of land near the water held many large logs and showed evidence of work, however, no one was present during our visit. I placed my foot on the edge of this yellow cedar stump to give you an idea of the size of some of the trees.  

A stop sign, with the word in both English and Kwakwala fascinated me. I'm happy to see the traditional languages revived. There are two elementary schools in Alert Bay, and older students take the ferry to Port McNeil. 

Christ Church (Anglican) was built in 1879. Regular services are still held there and I thought the building so pretty with the gingerbread on top and around the bell tower. 

In 1929, with direction and help from the federal government, a residential school was constructed. Here First Nations children were taken from their families and not allowed to speak their native languages. The school building, later used for other purposes, fell into disrepair and was taken down a few years ago. A plaque of memorial remains. 

We visited Alert Bay on Good Friday and I found it interesting that the people who greeted us with "Good Friday" or "Happy Easter" were mostly from the First Nations. Are they able to dissociate the wreckage of the residential schools from the message of the gospel?

In 1909, two Englishwomen began a hospital in Alert Bay that served a vast area of small populations. The modern hospital there today pays homage to these early medical workers with a display in the front lobby. Our neighbours were born in this hospital, and their children. Their parents were Finnish immigrants who lived on a nearby island that I'll write about in my next post.  

Fishing and logging were, and continue to be the main industries in Alert Bay. The building above was constructed as a saltery, where fresh salmon were salted and mild-cured before being sent to Victoria. Today, the building is almost derelict, but is used as a net loft, where fishermen hang their yards and yards of nets for mending. 

Above the village is a small ecological park with a board walk. The sun poured down in this space and we enjoyed respite from the wind. This swampland was created by the damming of a small river to create a freshwater source for the saltery. The trees killed by the dam stand like ghosts, with long tangles of moss draped in and around their branches. Bald eagles soar overhead, and the raucous calls of crows fill the air. 

Salal is a native plant that grows all over the coast. I have never seen it grow so tall as here in these northern rain forests. It was well over my head, and Tim's, too. The trails were tunnel-like in their narrowness with tall walls of salal. 

We disturbed a pair of wood-ducks courting in the pond-side growth and they paddled off in a hurry. The ecological reserve is a quiet and peaceful place. 

As we left on the ferry, we both said that we'd like to return one day when more things are open. It's a fascinating bit of our country's history that we'd like to explore.