It’s been summer and I’ve been on vacation from my vacation life.
No painting, no writing, little photography, no special projects, little time on-line, not much time in The Bunkie at all. Instead I moved locations and spent my time outside in The Bunkie Patio, reading books, playing Sudoku, watching hummingbirds and petting Dennis the Cat who would settle himself on my lap for a morning/mid-day/afternoon/anytime nap. Beside the Pergola, stretched out on the garden lounge chair, I named this activity “Pergin’, singing to the tune of Bob Marley’s “Jammin’”.
Every half hour or so I would see something in the garden that needed attention and would get up to water or deadhead or whatever – one thing leads to another and it might be awhile before I could find my way back to my chair. It was not all peace and bliss however and every so often escape became necessary.
The new construction behind us continues apace, as the framers are at work now, hammering and sawing and drilling with the pfsssst of the compressor going off every few minutes. During those first days of starting construction of the house the carpenters started up at 7:30 in the morning, shattering the peace and quiet. I thought of Number One Son, Steve, the carpenter, who no doubt was doing the same thing at his own build down in Sooke. That made it easy – all that was needed was an attitude adjustment. All I had to do was think of these construction workers as a bunch of little Steve’s, working hard to buy dog food for a bunch of little Rosie’s. Problem solved, pound away.
Steve’s Rosie
As it turned out, the build in the lot behind us was not our only problem this summer. There’s another new build on the next street over, and that noise comes in from that direction, and across the street Neighbour Dave is doing a major house renovation, most of which takes place in the evenings and weekends, so when the guys behind us knock off for the day, it starts up across the street. Likewise Neighbour Wayne decided to build the biggest garage ever, within eye and ear shot, and he too is doing it after work hours, on weekends and well into the evening hours. Across the street in another direction another neighbour decided to have a new fence built. Then the chainsaws started as our next neighbour decided to cut down the tree that served as a privacy screen between our two properties. The summer of noise.
Sometimes I would wear big noise-cancelling head phones, working my way on shuffle through 4573 songs in my iTunes Library. Often we would flee for the day, exploring new places not too far away and expanding the perimeter.
Kayaking to the White Whale
Over the years anytime I have made any kind of wish list, I’ve always had “do more kayaking” on it. But there’s a big difference between wishing and executing and I really don’t know why I haven’t made the effort all that often. That may be about to change.
One summer weekend we drove up to Courtenay (a 45 minute drive up the coast) where we rented a kayak to make our way up the estuary to the river.
We launched our double kayak and started pedaling up the estuary toward our destination. That is not a typo. This kayak, a Hobie, has pedals, we didn’t use the paddles strapped alongside at all. It was a blast. It reminded me of the pedal boat at the cottage years ago I was so fond of and unlike my experience on a later rental on Quadra Island on another occasion using a regular kayak, no sore shoulder or blisters on the base of the thumb. This particular kind of kayak can even come with an optional electric motor! (We didn’t have one on our rental). Seems bizarre to me but I get it. Keeping the boomers active and out on the water.
The estuary was magnificent – that just-above-the-water-level view was the perfect vantage point to watch the resting geese and other shore birds. We passed by dozens of seals and watched a group of 4 sharing a large salmon, tearing off chunks of the deep pink (uh salmon-coloured) flesh. Eagles perched above us in tall trees along the river and I spotted a brown feathered juvenile, under two years old, who had not yet grown into his distinctive white-head coloration.
Our destination – our favourite lunch spot, the White Whale pub. Many times I’ve sat on their terrace overlooking the river and watched people paddling up to the dock and many times I’ve wished that was me.
Tribal Journeys 2017
Speaking of paddling…
On another day trip we headed up to Campbell River to be part of the welcoming at the conclusion of this year’s Tribal Journeys epic canoe voyage.
Since 1993 First Nations tribes from all over the coast participate in the annual event making their way along the coast to the destination of whichever tribe is hosting the potlatch for that year. This time the hosts were the We Wai Kai and We Wai Kum of Quadra Island and Campbell River. Depending where they are coming from, some canoes are on the water for as many as 5 weeks, stopping along the way for rest and recovery at different tribal territories along the coast. It is a time of reconnection between peoples and honouring the past and present of these seafaring nations.
This year over 85 canoes from over 50 tribes completed the journey, landing that afternoon under the hazy, smokey skies that had descending on us that week from the inland fires. As they made the ceremonial crossing across the waters between Campbell River and Quadra Island they were greeted by a humpback whale. It was exciting to watch the canoe families paddle past us; the crowd had great energy as we all celebrated the event, both as bystanders and participants. People-watching in the crowd was as much fun as watching those sleek, beautifully painted canoes.
This year we celebrate the 150th anniversary of this country. First Nations also have something to celebrate. Surviving those 150 years. Despite best efforts.
We returned once again to Quadra for several days around Labour Day where I’d rented a (different) cottage with killer views over a sheltered bay towards the islands beyond and mainland mountain ranges. Looking directly across at the Rebecca Spit which almost encircled the bay, was a stretch of land, just to the left of a break in the trees, that had a history much older than that of those early European settlers. Here an archeological dig 50 years ago found that this place had been a look out and fort for the First Nations people on this land, used for a period of time until about 450 years ago – pre contact – during times of war with other tribes, a time when people were afraid. The archaelogists found the postholes and remnants of 3 buildings, the palisade enclosure and surrounding trenches. I can see the gap where the trench cutting off the north end of the spit was.
I went over to check it out. Of course now, many years after the dig, and many many more since it was in use, there is nothing left to see. A patch of land, a ridge, a wide view of the strait and a big juvenile bald eagle now hanging out in a tree above – still a lookout place for someone. I walked the site and the rocky beach in front of it, trying to figure out what it was about that place that had made it an ideal look out and imagining what it was like to live there then, under threat from these waters. Open views to the south, views to the islands to the north, wide open to the storms that toss tree trunks up on the beach like toothpicks. The trees that are now on the land have grown up since then and even the spit itself is not the same. The 7.3 earthquake that hit central Vancouver Island in 1946 crumbled the end of it back into the depths.
Ephemera: On that first cross-country trip to Canada, the young Oliver Sacks spent a summer here in Qualicum Beach. He never did settle in Canada in the end. A subsequent trip to San Francisco captured his heart and he moved to the U.S. instead where he went on to become a neurologist and writer (Awakenings, The Man Who Mistook His Wife For a Hat). He continued to follow The Professor’s advice in a lifetime of travels.
