The North Island; chapter one

We were persuaded that Saskatchewan in June wasn't the best season for a prairie experience so decided to make a long delayed excursion to the north end of Vancouver Island, which is actually a lot more west of here than north. We'd never been past Campbell River and  have wavered between "why would we" and "we should". I booked a B&B in Port McNeil back in March and for various good reasons we almost cancelled this trip a couple of times but kept coming back to it.
We stopped in Sayward on the way 'up'. The only thing I'd ever heard about it was during a rain-induced flood a few years ago and there's not much more to say. Like many of the north island communities, it's in a lovely location but is not exactly thriving. Ups and downs in the resource industries, fisheries and forestry, which used to make these places prosperous, have been mostly down for a dozen years. We had tea at the Cable House Cafe, made from 26 tons of recycled logging cable dragged out of the forest and welded to a steel frame. It's rustic and interesting with a new enthusiastic lessee but we wonder how long she can last with no custom except the odd traveller who ventures off the highway.

On we went another couple of hours, it's 5-6 hours actual driving time from Victoria to Port McNeil, to our reservation at At Water's Edge. And it was, with ferries, cruise ships and 7 eagles zooming past regularly. Our room was pretty cramped and basic but the location was superb. We had taken our propane campfire with us and enjoyed a nightcap on the beach each evening despite it being unexpectedly chilly.

Day one we went to Port Hardy and it rained. The various people we met were overly cheerful and enthusiastic about the town while we were depressed by it. We expected PH to be a bustling centre and it is not. Not only has it lost virtually everything due to the fishery collapse, it suffers from being too spread out (IMHO). Downtown Port Hardy, the sport fishery hotels, the BC Ferries terminal to Prince Rupert, and the beautiful Storey's Beach are not close together making it unlikely that the various players work together. Later, once we got used to no people and the road to ourselves we decided our first impression was culture shock because we are used to "cute" tourist destinations. Every visitor we met was from Europe (England, Belgium, Germany, France) looking for a wilderness experience and anxious to see bears and whales. I lie, there were groups of American sports fishers as well but not at our B&B.

On our way back to Port McNeil, we sidestepped down a winding fjord road to Port Alice for a look-see. It's tiny and isolated but seemed to have a better sense of itself. Our Irish house-exchanger from last year spent time working in the mill in Port Alice, yonks ago. Talk about culture shock from just outside Dublin to Port Alice.

Chapter two takes us to Alert Bay...

Garden Art

We're in Seattle for a couple of days, mostly for the big garden show at the Convention Center. The last time we attended was about 20 years ago; we were amazed then and still were today.  The demonstration gardens knock your socks off and we can't understand how they get the tons of rock, full sized trees, etc. up to the 4th level. But they do. And there are acres of market stalls with every garden toy and decoration that anyone could imagine and then create.

It's a "really big shew" (a shout out to Ed Sullivan for that phrase).

But for sheer spectacular beauty, we went to the Chihuly Garden Center at the Space Needle. His 'school' of artists are fabulous and his influence is everywhere in this part of the world. No words needed.

Ran Away From Home

Post renovation, post Christmas, post AGM package preparation; it seemed a good time to get out of Dodge for a week. San Diego was our destination but here we are in Palm Springs instead. It’s 10 degrees warmer than it should be so each day is getting into the low 80’s which is fine by us but we’re hearing some concern expressed because there is no snow-pack, at all, and that’s an important water supply for the valley. According to a guide that we spent a few hours with this is the hottest driest desert in North America. The guide is a burned out hippie/surfer/new-ager so his info might be suspect but it sure feels and looks dryer than Arizona at this time of year.

We spent a day with Vancouver friends who live here in the winter, went up the tramway, did a couple of desert hikes, hung around the pool, and generally haven’t taxed ourselves at all. Not even shopping although Jim did manage to find a few things he couldn't live without.  

These first 4 photos are from a visit to Indian Canyons with our surfer dude guide, Richard. The canyon we hiked in is an oasis of native palm trees, quite different from the imported ones in people's gardens. The 'skirt' is full of wildlife and insects, a city structure of its own (4th pic).  The 2nd pic is a palm trunk coated in mud from a flash flood which are to be taken very seriously. According to Richard if you are hiking and see a cloud, get out of the canyon as fast as you can. The mud was up at least 20 feet from where we stood. Third pic is supposed to have been the inspiration for the rock in animated movieThe Lion King; a photo of it was in Walt Disney's creative department.

The next 3 are from our excursion up the Palm Springs Aerial Tramway, a rotating tram built in Switzerland of course, that rises a steep and dramatic 8000 feet. Below is the dry, dry desert floor but at the top and on the west side of the mountains is heavy forest because of humidity from the west coast. It was interesting to see the profound contrast. Building the cable towers was quite a feat and accomplished mostly by helicopter. Crazy people, helicopter pilots, along with surfer dudes.

Palm Springs itself is a small town and definitely caters to tourists with lots of restaurants, FREE parking, a couple of street markets, and quirky sights. The statue of Marilyn Monroe is in the middle of town and is huge. The 'sculptures' are in a private garden in the movie colony area which we also toured with Richard who called Marilyn Munroe, Mary Jean Baker. We decided he's enjoyed too much Mary Jane in his life. 

Speaking of Mary Jane the palm trees are freaking me out a bit. Either I've spent a lot of years oblivious, there's something in the water, or these trees are different. They are super shiny and reflect the sun or moon like glitter. Maybe it's because the air is so clear but with a full moon this week the back-lit palms look like Christmas decorations. 

Of course I can't get a good photo of the phenom but here's a daytime shot that sort of shows it. On the other hand the Betty Ford Center is just down the street.

Happy Campers

Every year we talk about going camping and somehow it hasn't happened since 2005. It was a shock to realize how long it's been. Our camping equipment is also our earthquake/emergency supply so it's not like we ever thought of getting rid of it nor has it been stuffed away somewhere inaccessible. If we have a big earthquake we don't want to have to dig through too much rubble to get tent, tarps, food, camp stove, sleeping bags, and all that survival stuff, so the gear lives in the garage. Which means we see it every day and eventually it called to us loudly enough that we answered.

not obvious here but the campsite in the background was below us by 6 or 7 feet

We've only ever camped at provincial parks, basically because they are beautiful and because Rathtrevor and Miracle Beach have forest as well as beach. Rathtrevor is about 2 hours from Victoria and always busy; it was sold out by the time we settled on dates. Miracle Beach is almost 4 hours away and was available. We didn't want to drive that far so I looked online for an alternative and came across The Living Forest, just south of Nanaimo. On the "no guts no glory" theme we gave it a whirl and liked it very much. The campground sits on a hillside overlooking the Nanaimo River estuary, the sites are relatively spacious and well looked after, there is actual security so campers seem to behave well (ask us about Englishman River Falls someday!), lots of staff on site, FLUSH toilets, and good showers.

view from the cafe which has wi-fi that we didn't use

What can I say? An unserviced site is $28.00, $1.00 less than the Provincial campgrounds. And you can have a 2nd car on the site for which the Province charges another $12.00. We had electricity (which we didn't use) and water on our site, and a view of the estuary for $35.00 per night. Except we only paid $91.00 so I'm not sure what happened.
Price isn't the story. The story is that we spent 3 nights in a tent, unplugged from electronic crap except our e-readers, ate and drank well and enjoyed the complete disconnect.

 A bonus was that Jim's cousin Gary O'Brien lives in Nanaimo and he and his wife Marisol came for a smoky campfire visit. Nice people and fun to be with.

We may go back this summer but if we do it will have to be soon because, inevitably on Vancouver Island, there will be a burn ban prohibiting campfires. Already it hasn't rained for weeks, there is none in the next week's forecast, and the forest fire hazard is up to High. There is some high cloud today but it's 30C, the humidity is 22%, and it's breezy; perfect forest fire conditions.

Moratorium on age

I've been noticing lately, a lot, how many references are made to age, by and about people of all ages. A recent blog post by a friend began “I'm in my mid-forties as I write this…”; someone else said, “now that I'm almost 70…”; another was “(what can you expect) she’s only in her 20’s”.  The worst was a comment about friends who are in their 80’s “let’s face it they aren't going to be around for many more years”, which in this case meant their opinion didn’t matter. I am guilty of saying “our window of opportunity is getting smaller”. Inevitably age references imply a stereotype or a limiting category and yet we are constantly being reminded that age isn't an actual barrier, rather an artificial one: we see children with mature abilities and elders climbing mountains.

I think we put too much emphasis on birth dates and birthdays, especially the decade ones. It starts in childhood when for some reason there is something special about getting to be a “big girl or boy” and evolves through excitement, denial, anxiety, and, maybe, to pride of accomplishment. I didn’t mind turning 30, but at 31 it seemed like the tide had turned and I was on the slippery downhill slope even though only one more day had clicked by on the calendar. Age numbers remind me of golf scores. Lower is better and if you pay too much attention to the score you choke and mess up the next shot.

So here’s a challenge for you. Pay attention to how many age references you hear and think about what is really being said. Is the older person feeling frightened or marginalized, is the young person feeling dismissed, is the reference intended to marginalize or dismiss?  

If you are talking to me, I don't want to know how old you are. I want to know who you are, what you do with your time, what you like, what you believe. The only useful information about your age is what piece of history you've experienced and what you've contributed to that history. Whether you are 10 or 92, I want to enjoy your company, hear your stories, and laugh with you. I want to hear what your next adventure is going to be.

And I won't be having any more birthdays although there may still be a party in February.

Dublin, finally

It’s not that I've been avoiding Dublin; really, it’s just that cities don’t interest me in the same way as geology, nature, and rural scenery does. As cities go, Dublin is easy enough and interesting enough to be enjoyable. We made two day trips to Dublin from Navan, by bus #109.

a different view from the top of a double-decker bus

Our first foray was on a bank holiday and I thought maybe that was why there were so many people on the streets. Our second was on a regular Monday and it was equally busy. Coming back to Victoria I've realized how much of a car-culture we live in and how heavy the traffic is here compared to the pedestrian traffic of Ireland.

Grafton Street

So what did we do and see in Dublin? Christ Church Cathedral (Church of Ireland and roughly like the Church of England), has the most amazing crypts and a lovely feel in the main church. St Patrick’s cathedral (Roman Catholic) seems to be a lot more about politics and had a gift shop set up at the back of the nave; I didn’t like it much and it  needed a good cleaning.

similar tile floors in both cathedrals

Both charge an entry fee which allows them to cope with the upkeep of such old buildings. Christ Church is an honest to goodness Gothic structure complete with flying buttresses and seems to be the heart of Dublin while St. Patrick’s is the largest church in Ireland and is more associated with the whole country. They were rivals back in the 1200’s but eventually sorted it out sometime in the 1300’s. I said one is Anglican and the other RC, but I’m not really clear on it because Wikipedia attributes them both to Church of Ireland.

We went next to another kind of church, the Guinness Storehouse. It’s a bit like Disney in organization and display, but well done and interesting. Arthur Guinness signed a 9000 year lease for the property, in 18-something and never looked back.

All but Pat drinking Guinness. She just could go it or beer in general.

We went to Trinity College to see the original Book of Kells,

When I saw the Book of Kells in 1968 it was in a case in this room. Now it has it's own  environmentally controlled  annex, and gift store of course..

 took a bus tour, had a beverage in O'Donoghue’s Pub of the Dubliners fame,

the slope on the floor is at least 12 inches, and it's been many a decade since  the place has  been "done up".

wandered up Grafton Street and generally got a sense of the city centre. And we met up with a strange group of people for lunch!

Pat, Jim, Ed, Andrew, Rob, and Eva at lunch at O`Connell`s. Andrew is studying at UCD

footsore after walking half the city we took a carriage back to the  centre to catch our bus.

And that's it for Ireland, or at least for my posts about our trip. There is a lot more to say but not by me!

The Boyne River Valley

Two more Irish posts should wrap up this trip.
We were ambitious, wanting to see and do as much as possible, and we had three full weeks so it was a far cry from the 1969 movie “If It’s Tuesday, This Must Be Belgium”. Still we kept to a pretty busy schedule. Our house exchange base, where we were for about 12 days, was in a town called Navan, county seat for Meath. It is about an hour by bus northwest of Dublin, conveniently placed, and in the midst of a significant historical area, the Boyne Valley. On our first evening we walked into the town centre and weren't impressed at all. It was grey and damp, and all the storefronts had metal roller blinds/grates pulled down. Coming from Charlottetown and Victoria that is not a look we are familiar with and it spoke of a drab, derelict, unhappy place. Next time we went to the town centre it was during business hours and the place was hopping with people and activity and suddenly we were impressed with what a well balanced and well placed location it is. By Irish standards, Navan is a pretty big town (about 25,000 in greater Navan), and yet it has quirky little streets and alleys, and lots of old and interesting shops, restaurants, and pubs.

Irish washer woman, in the garden in Navan, being supervised by Ed.

Also in the town centre (yes, centre) is a new-ish shopping centre, with a Mark’s and Spencer’s complete with Food Hall. Yay! The people we met in Navan were lovely and everyone was interested in how we were getting on and anxious to be helpful. If you are ever there make sure to have the seafood risotto at La Cucina on Railway Street.

The sites of historic significance within 30 minutes of Navan seem endless: Newgrange, Trim Castle, Kells (of the Book of Kells fame), the Battle of the Boyne, Hill of Tara, Slane Castle, to name some. We tried to do it all, of course, and Jim and Ed even played golf thanks to our host, Tim, and his friends Martin and Con.

from the top of Trim Castle, the largest Norman castle in Ireland and made more famous by the filming of Braveheart

A high Celtic cross in Kells, possibly the oldest in Ireland, circa 1000-ish

Pat and the Stone of Destiny on the Hill of Tara. We expected something a little more grand. The stone is supposed to shout out when touched by the "High King"; it didn't for us. 

The entrance to Newgrange, one of several passage tombs, circa 3200 BC

at the Battle of the Boyne site

It’s almost worth a separate post to talk about Bettystown, but I’ll cram it into this one. To understand you have to know that, sitting in a café garden on a beautiful Sunday morning, the owner told us he hadn't used his outdoor umbrellas even one day the previous year. This was a perfect summer, sunny, Sunday

That afternoon, with nothing else planned, we decided to drive the 30 km to the coast for a look-see. The same café owner told us to go to Bettystown. We got within 10 k of Bettystown and found ourselves in bumper to bumper traffic. After about 30 minutes of that, Jim suggested we pull into a side street and walk which we did, to the see what was going on up ahead. Lo and behold, Bettystown consists of an intersection and a couple of pizza/beer places. The fourth side of the intersection leads on to the beach and cars were coming from the other 3 directions onto the beach! They drive down the beach until they find a parking spot, and that’s it. Can you imagine in our highly protected Canadian environment anything even remotely like it? I can’t. Let’s go for a family outing to enjoy the ocean and sand, spend an hour in traffic to get parked, and play in the sand amongst cars and exhaust fumes! And then spend 2 hours getting home. We were gobsmacked.

We beat a hasty retreat to nearby Laytown, which doesn't have a drive-onto-the-beach access but does have a very decent pub.