Dear Reader, I trust I will not exhaust you with this account; thinking of how to sort it out in writing already overwhelms me.
It is the story of our Thanksgiving (October in Canada) weekend plus a few days. My husband, Tony, and I set off on the Thursday from our home in Edmonton. Our destination was Vancouver Island to see my son and daughter-in-law and also to deliver to my son a carload of items for the business (2SWater is our tech start-up with the laboratory in Victoria). The car was so packed I could only take a little gym bag for myself, and after squeezing in a few gifts, there was not even room for an extra pair of shoes. And forget about putting my seat-back back!
We set off west along the Yellowhead Highway, which I love. The road to the mountains and the ocean – eventually. It was such a Covid-escape. We had not been so far since you-know-when! Big drive the first day to the town of Kamloops in British Columbia. Here we found a fine hotel, a tasty supper and even a glass of Kamloops wine (my jury-of-one, still out on that). The restaurant was crowded and animated; afterwards, we walked around downtown. If one had to choose a first after-Covid hotel outing with one’s love, Kamloops would not spring to mind. It is a transport hub, a bit gritty, surrounded by desert-like hills. But they did us very well. Thank you, Kamloops.
We made it the next day with no problem for our 3pm ferry booking from Vancouver to Vancouver Island. The crossing was enchanting: warm weather, happy people. We sat outside enjoying the view, the seagulls – maybe a whale.
Oh, what a relief to unload that car! I didn’t even mind carrying the boxes up a flight of outside stairs and along the walkway. The building with the lab also houses various dance and yoga studios and on Friday evenings it is hopping, especially the Irish dancers.
The weekend was lovely with family and friends: my son organized a crab and seafood boil-up for our Thanksgiving feast. Sunday, we made it over to Salt Spring Island and spent the day with my dear friend Catherine and her island man (we used to call him Mountain Man). A hike through a forest down to a little hidden cove. How lovely is that?
Next morning it was up and at ‘em for the 8 am ferry back to the mainland. We definitely did not go back to Edmonton the way we came.
I had a date in the city of Quesnel, British Columbia, to buy a used sail dinghy. Quesnel is in the interior of BC on what the map calls the central plateau. It wasn’t the least-long way to get there (I do not say shortest as no routes were short) but we decided to go via Whistler, the resort ski town. We had a lovely drive right through downtown Vancouver, deserted early on a holiday Monday, and set off up the Sea to Sky highway. It has wonderful views and was all new to me. We stopped in Whistler for lunch.
That might be my only visit to Whistler, at least with my husband. Whistler is swank and very fashionable. It is not ski season but there were bikes everywhere. In fact, the whole place was heaving, it was a long weekend holiday. We found a restaurant terrace overlooking the bottom of the ski run which has a paved down-the-mountain summer trail busy with bikes. It all went south when the hostess told us to scan the menu on our QR code. Well, the last thing we felt like was to fuss around with our cell phones. “Could we have a paper menu?” was our innocent request. Her response was “Don’t you have an I-phone?” Actually, we both have android smartphones, she gazed at us as though from another planet. Tony lost it in what I will call an indignant outburst. Well, we had had an early start and driven the twisting crowded mountain road. I managed to drag him away, still railing and spluttering.
We got lunch in the next town Pemberton where there was actual real folk. A nearby village is called D’Arcy, was there a Jane Austen fan around naming these places? I mean Pemberton is almost Pemberley…just saying.
Then we continued east on the 99, which got narrower and wound through mountains and mining communities, crossing creeks and rivers until we got to the mighty Fraser River and eventually turned north. Now the scenery was like the Wild West: large open grazing lands bordered by mountains and ranch buildings. We passed through small towns and villages: 70 Mile House, 100 Mile house, then 108, 150. I have Googled these names: this was the Cariboo Wagon Road for the gold rush trail – I told you it was like the Wild West – and these were stopping points.
It was dark with a half-moon rising when we got to Quesnel, another nice hotel and supper. The next morning we found our way out of town to meet the boat people on their farm. They were selling the boat as they wanted something with a motor and assured me the oars would be included with the sails.
My search for a sailboat has lasted all summer. It is not easy in the prairies especially with a definite idea in mind. This little boat would have met my criteria, it did! My plan was to cartop it. We have a trailer but we were not going to take it all the way to Victoria etc. I had checked the dimensions, but one I had not – the width, or beam of the boat. We have often car topped and it has not been a problem, but this little bateau was two inches wider than our roof rack. Oh, misery. There was talk of getting two by fours and doing some sort of arrangement. It was up to me! But I chickened out, there was a strong wind and many kilometres to go, so I took the decision of no-go. I had visions of the whole thing flying off on the highway. Oh dear, I am still sad.
We came home, took all day, we had rain and even some snow. I didn’t get my boat but we explored some new and interesting country and had a great time on the coast. And who knows, maybe in the spring we will get back to Quesnel, with trailer. We could explore the town which is full of history, it was part of the gold rush and you can borrow a gold pan from the tourist office and have a go panning for gold. Might pay for the gas—ha-ha!