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 Postcards |
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Hullo all, hope this finds you well. Sorry to be so late in writing. It's been somewhat busy. I'll fill you in on the Vancouver Island leg of the journey today and try to get caught up soon. We arrived fresh off the ferry and found our way to friend's of Beth in Sannich, outside of Victoria. Turns out that Christie and Marvin Eng run an ice cream factory out of their house. What luck! Each evening saw us sampling an array of flavours, ranging from the expected to the utterly unusual, and all points in between. Belgian Chocolate, Bourbon Vanilla, Ginger and Lavender certainly stand out. True to form, my favorite was the Vanilla. Ginger garnered rave reviews however. Colin was most appreciative. Colin was in heaven. We actually had a couple of days to look around in Victoria and environs, so Dave, Beth, Colin and Cheryl Oattes (band friend) decided to drive to Port Renfrew on the South West Corner of the island, in search of tidal pools and wildlife in general. The road was as twisting and winding as a road could possibly be, and if it weren't so beautiful, would be described as tortuous in its path. Beautiful it was though. We stuck a Kate Rusby CD in the player and completed the short distance (on the map) in only two hours and a bit. We hiked down to Botanical Beach to explore. The first objects of fascination were the 6" plus Banana Slugs oozing their way to wherever it is they go, about as majestic as a large slimy mollusk could manage to be. They were quite prevalent on the path and one particular individual stood out for his/her (I don't know how they tell) athletic prowess, and was consequently dubbed the Racing Slug by popular acclaim. Of course it's all relative. Botanical Beach proved well named, abounding in tidal pools even with the tide in. Urchins, anemones, sculpins and crabs were featured in each. The numbers of tiny hermit crabs was astonishing. They had to be represented in the millions. We saw a baby seal pup that had apparently been beheaded by a passing boat, aquatic road kill, so to speak. The oceanic reclamation project was well underway. It was hours before we lifted our eyes from the pools and wandered further out on the rocks, letting the surf crash into the rocks, as surf is wont to do. I was staring off to the horizon, the beachside equivalent of gazing out the window in class, when I thought I saw something odd. It looked like a puff of steam erupting from behind an outlying rock. This was followed shortly by another, and remaining my usual calm self, I in turn erupted with a loud and urgent," hey, hey, hey, hey, hey," thoroughly startling and confusing my companions. Fortunately my excellent vocal directions were accompanied by insistent pointing and gesturing in the general vicinity of the ocean. We all waited another minute in silence (me wondering if I'd seen a dolphin and they wondering if I had seen anything) when not a hundred yards off shore, a grey whale broke the surface - spouting a healthy spume, long mottled back arching across the surface - a short wait and then the huge flukes hove into view. Exclamations of excitement exploded from the entire party, unsolicited and uncontrollable with every sighting, impossible to suppress. It was a unanimous and heartfelt thrill, and although it would be the equivalent of cheering a cow as it walked past, it somehow became our part of the relationship, our salute to the whale's perfectly adapted existence. Our drive back was a happy affair, with many references to the sights seen and with much singing by all. It was a splendid day all round and we all felt lucky to have been there. There is a lot to be said for towns at the end of the road. Will write again soon.  |
David Francey appearing next week:
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