Home Again, Home Again Jiggety Jig.

Finally home from the drive back east visiting relatives in Georgian Bay, Ontario, and then my month long stay with my daughter and her new baby in Salmon Arm.

We left home July 19th and it’s good to be back to my little island rock in the Nanaimo harbour. But, in true island fashion/frustration, there was a hitch getting here.

It was 9:00 pm when Bob and I got off the B.C Ferry from Vancouver, and its monsoonal rainfall. We got  to the marina where we dock our boat and unloaded all our gear from the car down the dock ramp and into our boat, then drove the car over to our parkade a block away, walked back to the boat, jumped in and Bob turned the key to start the 50 hp outboard- and nothing happened.

Dead battery. Probably caused by the bilge pump sticking and not turning off after it had pumped all the water out that had collected in the boat during our time away.  Bob let out some pretty (in)decent expletives as I check the time and said it’s 9:55, the Dinghy Dock Ferry to the island (and home) is at 10:10.

We have to make that boat. Bob swore some more. So a mad dash back to the parkade, retrieve the car, drive back to the boat basin, reload our bags into the car, drive back to the parkade to re-park the car, and hustle down to the ferry landing.

We made it. And once on the island, and relief set in, the tranquil 20 minute walk to our house from the little ferry was a pleasant homecoming.

Yesterday Bob took the Dinghy Dock Ferry back to town, dropped our dead battery off at the battery shop to recharge. Today, both of us taking the little ferry, we picked up the now charged battery and put it in our boat, along with all our luggage from the car, and the three bags of groceries we bought. Now everything is home!

What’s missing in my feature photo is what we couldn’t carry ourselves and had left at the dock head. A bag of potatoes, two coolers, a big bag containing my coats, and another containing two pillows. Bob was off with our wheelbarrow retrieving them.

We are still thinking of getting a small truck for over here. But then where’s the strain and exercise with that?

So goes island life. It’s not without its worthy efforts!

 

David and Goliath

We got out on our first little sail of the summer the other day, the winds were light but steady and the sun had finally burned away most of the clouds. We didn’t venture far, just around Snake Island four miles out due to the light air. We were kept company by a couple of these big fellas waiting at anchor to get into Vancouver’s port across the Strait.

They are a bane to some of the residents here, hearing the rumbling as they let out their chain rode to drop heavy anchors, complaining of their noisy generators running during the night, and their sometimes bright lights, especially if they anchor particularly close to our island, but I’m fascinated by their  scale, the engineering of their structure, and the historical connection they carry.

Moving cargo by sea is ancient, the world’s economy has hinged on floating vessels up and down great river and ocean systems for millennia. I don’t want to comment necessarily on the cargo they now transport other than to say besides the many loads of sneakers, import cars, stuff for the Wal-Mart’s, or raw log exports – lets face it we buy all this stuff, no right to judge what is necessary goods; there is perhaps much more that is down right dangerous like the diluted  toxic Bitumen that will be coming through the pipeline from the Alberta tar sand’s channeled through B.C.’s mountain range and pristine wilderness for freighter export out of Vancouver’s busy harbour.  Odds are certain this big red ship from Majuro will have such cargo.

It’s the paradox of human ingenuity, we can create incredible feats of engineering that by the same token can harm or destroy. The double edge sword that’s hidden in our many revered works. The Pyramids or the great wall of China can inspire and we marvel and congratulate our innovations, but the lives of thousands of slaves that severely toiled and perished seem to escape us.

And while these ships are striking to see up close, their tenuous journey out to the open pacific before first threading through our narrow passages and skirting our active gulf islands causes some amount of disdain.   But what can we do? We are hypocrites all.

 

 

 

Back home

I’ve been home for two weeks now after spending the month of May in Kimberley visiting my daughter while Bob was working in the area, and I’ve been so busy I haven’t put time aside to post. Upon our return we were greeted with a lawn of very tall grass, and because it was already the end of May we had to get busy buying seeds and vegetable starts and flowers, getting the vegetable gardens planted, putting flower baskets together, mowing and weeding.

We did have a little parcel we discovered in our hedge while weeding, a nest of twelve quail eggs. The mother must’ve been out feeding when we saw the pale and brown speckled eggs nestled in the tall grass. When I checked them the next day I thought they were gone, that a raccoon had gotten to them, but then I looked again I could then notice the excellent camouflage of the male parent spread out over the nest.

I also needed to get up to see my Mom for some serious breakout time; I take her out about three times a week, taking her for lunch, drives, and walks down at the beach front. Although my sister got her out on the weekends while I was away, mom was getting a bit of cabin fever being cloistered during the weeks.

Yesterday Bob and I worked hard in pulling up a massive bamboo type ground cover that had gotten away on us and was encroaching on the veg garden area, and today- I’m beat! Coupled with staying up too late last night to try to watch Saturday Night Live and then waking at 6 this morning, I can never sleep in no matter how late I go to bed! I feel like a wet rag today~

So after doing a bit of raking I’ve surrendered to the remainder of the day to give it a rest. Find a comfy spot in the sun maybe and read. I do need a trip to the library, having finished Paradise by Toni Morrison while in Kimberley, I’ll see what I can re-read from my own library ~