While I am now back in my apartment, I am obviously somewhat behind
in my blog postings..... I will continue to discuss my trip in
sequential order
The near clear sky next morning gave promise to another glorious day. I had slept well in the sack but had been under the assumption that sand was soft ( I won't bore you with repeating the conversation I had with some one earlier in the summer about soft and hard beaches) and therefore I did not need to use my air mattress. I was wrong. Sand can be and was just as hard any other material. While I had managed to dig little pockets for my hip and shoulders, it had not be a comfortable night. I put my inflated mattress into the sack before I did anything else. I could have survived without it but as I had it with me, it made sense to use it. I also raised the corners of the tarp. It was a bit low and it was awkward accessing my stuff.
I usually don't have breakfast with my family. Rainbow porridge, while some folks like it, is not to my taste. As well, given the nocturnal habits of my brothers and sisters, breakfast has sometimes been know to be served fairly close to noon. However at this Gathering I think I had breakfast four or five times. The folks who were cooking were up early and we ate well before 10:00 on at least a couple of the mornings. They were also very tasty breakfasts. There were stewed apples with cinnamon, lots of brown sugar to go with the porridge and some other rather delicious concoctions.
Later in the day I helped some very enthusiastic folks dig a deep hole in the sand and then line it with logs so we would have a place to put some canned and dry goods in. I say help - but in fact I did relatively little. There were just too many people wanting to work far harder than I could. As well I was uncomfortable with the possibility of bears and what they might be able to get into. I was reasonably sure that with the number of dogs around and the noise that we made, that most reasonable bears would stay away. I would have been happier if we had used the steel bear proof boxes that we at the park but folks didn't want to listen. On the assumption that the kitchen was kept clean and nothing perishable was placed in the pit - it seemed to be a reasonable option. As well the bear proof container would not have been big enough to hold all of the food that would be arriving.
One morning after the folks had had a late night feast of five salmon that had been donated to them, I spoke for more than a few minutes on the problem of bears and how dangerous it all could be if they decided to raid our camp. I don't very often wear my "elder" cap. In fact I usually refuse both the label and any of the assumed wisdom that goes with it. But that morning I made a point of being rather forceful about people being sloppy around safe bear habits. I am not too sure if it did any good. Equally as concerning was the fact that someone had observed a pack of wolves across the river. We did not need them to prey upon the dogs. The river was too deep to ford and the tide ensured that there was almost always a current going up or down the river. So I think it was safe. I would have been happier if people were as concerned as I.
All of the days I was at the Gathering were sort of like that. The weather was cloudy for a few days but generally folks got up early, someone made breakfast and work parties were created. For example the river up to the supply truck was partially blocked by fallen trees so for two days, crews went up there to clear the river to make it easier for the canoes to make in down with the food. People lazed around, played in the water. chatted, and played any one of the 7-8 guitars stashed around the campfire or the kitchen. Supper was served well before dark (unusual at some Gathering to eat before dark) and then we companionably chatted until it was time to wander off to our sleeping bags. It sound rather idyllic. And it was except for one little problem.
Two of the Park Rangers came by the second day that I was there. They told us that we were not welcome at the park and that we needed to leave. They gave a couple of reasons: 1) the park was too ecological sensitive to support the anticipated numbers of people, 2) the scouts had not asked for permission and 3) the local First Nation community on whose traditional lands we were camping had not been consulted. All of those things should have been addressed by the folks who scouted and recommended the site. They were not and therefore there was no doubt that we would have to move.
The following day more senior people arrived by helicopter and gave the same message. Two days later another larger helicopter arrived with the traditional chief of the First Nations who asked us the leave. Around the circle as we passed the talking stick around and around there was mixed reaction. Some of the Europeans had some difficulty understanding why we needed to listen to the Indigenous people of the area. For them - no one owns the land. For people like me it was very clear. We had messed up. We had not consulted with the local people and we should have.
As glorious as the spot was - we did not belong. I started calculating how I would get out.
Sunday, September 1, 2013
Thursday, August 29, 2013
On the Road Again 2013 # 12
While I am now back in my apartment, I am obviously somewhat behind in my blog postings..... I will continue to discuss my trip in sequential order
The parking lot was fairly full. The family (mom, dad, 4 kids and grandparents) who had driven me to the trail head were locals (which in this area appears to mean that they lived about 90 km away) They were very surprised and I think displeased that it looked as if there were so many campers on the beach. I didn't have the heart to tell them that there might be a couple of more hundred campers arriving.
The walk to the beach was not too bad. It took most folks about an hour to walk the trail; it took me about a hour and forty-five minutes to do it. Parts of the trail, especially where there were exposed roots, was slippery and occasional dangerous for those whose balance or ankles are suspect. One needed to be careful where one placed ones foot as it was quite easy to slip. However, most of the trail was either dry or "boardwalked". There were a few sections that were quite hilly and in some places it was so steep that it took all of my strength to climb up. In spite of these minor technical difficulties, most of the trail was rather beautiful with large, sometimes twisted trees towering above us. It would have been a very very nice walk if I had not been carrying a pack. As it was I did not mind stopping to get my heart rate down. There was a lot to look at.
One of the minor frustration of the hike was that while I could hear the waves crashing on the beach, I could not see the ocean. I kept on waiting for the path to turn west towards the sounds of the waves but it felt as if I walked for miles just on the other side of the ridge never quite being able to see over the crest. However, when finally the path did turn west, the wait was worth it. What an extraordinary beach!! It was absolutely glorious. It was well over a kilometer long with large black rocks at either end. While I never actually went to see, I was told that there was more beach on the other sides of those rocks. Out in the ocean as the tide was coming in, the waves curled and crested in a constant and thundering roar. The sky was cloudless. The sun shining on the water made it glisten. Along the shore people walked, playing in the water, surfing or just standing there - admiring the view west.
There were about 60 Rainbows there when I arrived. The first two I saw were my friendly drivers Rosie and Ignacio. It was really great to see them again. I dropped my pack on the sand (I never need much of an excuse to get it off of my back) and we chatted a bit. They went off to the parking lot to get rid of some stuff they didn't need and I headed up the beach. Setting up was easy - the bivy sack takes literally seconds to "erect" and there were lots of driftwood logs to string my tarp to. Within 10 minutes I was set up and off down the beach towards where I assumed the kitchen would be. I had twine in my bag and was ready to tie some knots.
When I got the the kitchen - everything was under control. There was no need for my flimsy twine as things were being built using the heavy storm tossed timbers. I sat around for a bit and chatted with the young folks ( for most of my 6 or7 days there I think I was the oldest person on the beach - sometimes by quite a few years), made a few suggestions that were quickly adapted and changed into something much better that I had suggested, asked questions about the site (e.g where was the latrine and what was the safe drinking water situation) and just enjoyed being around folks.
While I was trying to help the kitchen builders, I unfortunately stepped on a sharp piece of wood and scraped a fair bit of skin off my instep. Nothing serious but to keep it as clean as possible, I wore shoes most of the time. Which was not a terrible inconvenience as the sand was almost too hot to walk on.
There was a lot of work to be done. Most of the food supplies were still up the river (which could only be easily accessed at high tide), the kitchen needed more shelving, we needed to dig a compost pit, find a spot to store the food and create a space for the main circle and fire. But there was no rush. It was going to be a month long Gathering and it had just started. For now, I was quite content to listen to the music played by folks from at least three continents and to argue philosophy and politics until well after the moon had started to make its nightly journey across the sky.
The parking lot was fairly full. The family (mom, dad, 4 kids and grandparents) who had driven me to the trail head were locals (which in this area appears to mean that they lived about 90 km away) They were very surprised and I think displeased that it looked as if there were so many campers on the beach. I didn't have the heart to tell them that there might be a couple of more hundred campers arriving.
The walk to the beach was not too bad. It took most folks about an hour to walk the trail; it took me about a hour and forty-five minutes to do it. Parts of the trail, especially where there were exposed roots, was slippery and occasional dangerous for those whose balance or ankles are suspect. One needed to be careful where one placed ones foot as it was quite easy to slip. However, most of the trail was either dry or "boardwalked". There were a few sections that were quite hilly and in some places it was so steep that it took all of my strength to climb up. In spite of these minor technical difficulties, most of the trail was rather beautiful with large, sometimes twisted trees towering above us. It would have been a very very nice walk if I had not been carrying a pack. As it was I did not mind stopping to get my heart rate down. There was a lot to look at.
One of the minor frustration of the hike was that while I could hear the waves crashing on the beach, I could not see the ocean. I kept on waiting for the path to turn west towards the sounds of the waves but it felt as if I walked for miles just on the other side of the ridge never quite being able to see over the crest. However, when finally the path did turn west, the wait was worth it. What an extraordinary beach!! It was absolutely glorious. It was well over a kilometer long with large black rocks at either end. While I never actually went to see, I was told that there was more beach on the other sides of those rocks. Out in the ocean as the tide was coming in, the waves curled and crested in a constant and thundering roar. The sky was cloudless. The sun shining on the water made it glisten. Along the shore people walked, playing in the water, surfing or just standing there - admiring the view west.
There were about 60 Rainbows there when I arrived. The first two I saw were my friendly drivers Rosie and Ignacio. It was really great to see them again. I dropped my pack on the sand (I never need much of an excuse to get it off of my back) and we chatted a bit. They went off to the parking lot to get rid of some stuff they didn't need and I headed up the beach. Setting up was easy - the bivy sack takes literally seconds to "erect" and there were lots of driftwood logs to string my tarp to. Within 10 minutes I was set up and off down the beach towards where I assumed the kitchen would be. I had twine in my bag and was ready to tie some knots.
When I got the the kitchen - everything was under control. There was no need for my flimsy twine as things were being built using the heavy storm tossed timbers. I sat around for a bit and chatted with the young folks ( for most of my 6 or7 days there I think I was the oldest person on the beach - sometimes by quite a few years), made a few suggestions that were quickly adapted and changed into something much better that I had suggested, asked questions about the site (e.g where was the latrine and what was the safe drinking water situation) and just enjoyed being around folks.
While I was trying to help the kitchen builders, I unfortunately stepped on a sharp piece of wood and scraped a fair bit of skin off my instep. Nothing serious but to keep it as clean as possible, I wore shoes most of the time. Which was not a terrible inconvenience as the sand was almost too hot to walk on.
There was a lot of work to be done. Most of the food supplies were still up the river (which could only be easily accessed at high tide), the kitchen needed more shelving, we needed to dig a compost pit, find a spot to store the food and create a space for the main circle and fire. But there was no rush. It was going to be a month long Gathering and it had just started. For now, I was quite content to listen to the music played by folks from at least three continents and to argue philosophy and politics until well after the moon had started to make its nightly journey across the sky.
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
OnThe Road Again 2013 # 11
After I had my bivy sack set up, I dug out my little stove and a rather beaten up tin tea pot, boiled some water and made myself a bowel of Chinese noodle soup. It is easy to make and it taste good. One of the advantages of minimal camping is that washing up is very easy. I only had to rinse out one bowl.
After supper I went for a bit of a walk, watched a pair of eagles catch food for their young, worked on my stick for a bit and went to bed as soon as the sun went down. I wasn't tired - I just had nothing else to do. I slept in the bivy sack for the next 7 nights so let me tell you how it feels so I can get it out of the way. It is like being in a cocoon....actually there are times where it feel like I am trapped in a cocoon. If I need to have the hood up and zipped either because of the bugs or because it is raining it can quite claustrophobic. The second problem is that there is no where to put my stuff, so everything is in my pack with its rain cover on it which can make getting up the next morning, especially if it is raining a touch awkward. Its singular advantage is that it weighs very little. The reduced weight makes up for any inconvenience. In the past when I know that I am going to be camping in one spot for a few days I have taken my much more substantial two man tent. It is significantly heavier but much more roomier. However, last year I had had to walk 8 kilometers down a logging road carrying that far too heavy tent (actually it is not that heavy - I m just getting older)....this year fearing that the same thing would happen again, I chose to travel with just the bivy sack and a light tarp. I knew it would be an interesting experience, especially if it rained. Fortunately while misty the next morning, it was not raining.
I quickly got my stuff together and was on the road just after 7:00. As I have said before, I don't know why I bother to get up so early. I almost never get a ride. The walk from my camp ground to the turn off to Raft Cove was only a kilometer or so. It gave me the chance to limber up and to get all of the kinks out from the bus ride the day before. It was hard to find a place to stand because the shoulders were either very narrow or non-existent. There were however, a surprising number of vehicles on the road. Most of them however, were pickups with 2-3 guys in them. All of them looked to be working trucks - working men going to do a job. I was pretty sure that none of them were going to stop for me.
After being there for about 40 minutes, Bob from yesterday passed me going out with a large pile of logs. He sounded his air horn and I waved. About an hour later he came by the other way going back in for his second load. He stopped the truck and I climbed in. It was not the most luxurious truck that I have ever been in and given the state of the roads it was not the smoothest ride . But it was interesting and informative. My driver knew a lot about the business of logging and about the general area. He was always pointing out things of interest along the way such as the windmill farm being built along the ridge or the roads that were being used. He also talked about the various special hidden places that either had remarkable rock formations or unusual trees. It was an interesting journey, but perhaps the most remarkable bit was watching the trees being felled by this giant machine. It was incredibly powerful and efficient. It was also scary to watch how many trees the operator could take down in a few minutes.
Bob let me off at what appeared to be the last turn. While I, according to the directions, only had about 9 kilometers left to travel - the directions had not been that accurate - I in fact had no idea how far it was. However the odds of me getting a drive seemed rather remote as I had not seen a private car on the road for hours. So I decided that I might as well start walking. I probably walked for a hour or so before a SUV did stop and offer me a drive. The family were off to Raft Cove. I was glad that I did not have to walk. Without a doubt I was excited to camp on the beach with my Rainbow Family.
After supper I went for a bit of a walk, watched a pair of eagles catch food for their young, worked on my stick for a bit and went to bed as soon as the sun went down. I wasn't tired - I just had nothing else to do. I slept in the bivy sack for the next 7 nights so let me tell you how it feels so I can get it out of the way. It is like being in a cocoon....actually there are times where it feel like I am trapped in a cocoon. If I need to have the hood up and zipped either because of the bugs or because it is raining it can quite claustrophobic. The second problem is that there is no where to put my stuff, so everything is in my pack with its rain cover on it which can make getting up the next morning, especially if it is raining a touch awkward. Its singular advantage is that it weighs very little. The reduced weight makes up for any inconvenience. In the past when I know that I am going to be camping in one spot for a few days I have taken my much more substantial two man tent. It is significantly heavier but much more roomier. However, last year I had had to walk 8 kilometers down a logging road carrying that far too heavy tent (actually it is not that heavy - I m just getting older)....this year fearing that the same thing would happen again, I chose to travel with just the bivy sack and a light tarp. I knew it would be an interesting experience, especially if it rained. Fortunately while misty the next morning, it was not raining.
I quickly got my stuff together and was on the road just after 7:00. As I have said before, I don't know why I bother to get up so early. I almost never get a ride. The walk from my camp ground to the turn off to Raft Cove was only a kilometer or so. It gave me the chance to limber up and to get all of the kinks out from the bus ride the day before. It was hard to find a place to stand because the shoulders were either very narrow or non-existent. There were however, a surprising number of vehicles on the road. Most of them however, were pickups with 2-3 guys in them. All of them looked to be working trucks - working men going to do a job. I was pretty sure that none of them were going to stop for me.
After being there for about 40 minutes, Bob from yesterday passed me going out with a large pile of logs. He sounded his air horn and I waved. About an hour later he came by the other way going back in for his second load. He stopped the truck and I climbed in. It was not the most luxurious truck that I have ever been in and given the state of the roads it was not the smoothest ride . But it was interesting and informative. My driver knew a lot about the business of logging and about the general area. He was always pointing out things of interest along the way such as the windmill farm being built along the ridge or the roads that were being used. He also talked about the various special hidden places that either had remarkable rock formations or unusual trees. It was an interesting journey, but perhaps the most remarkable bit was watching the trees being felled by this giant machine. It was incredibly powerful and efficient. It was also scary to watch how many trees the operator could take down in a few minutes.
Bob let me off at what appeared to be the last turn. While I, according to the directions, only had about 9 kilometers left to travel - the directions had not been that accurate - I in fact had no idea how far it was. However the odds of me getting a drive seemed rather remote as I had not seen a private car on the road for hours. So I decided that I might as well start walking. I probably walked for a hour or so before a SUV did stop and offer me a drive. The family were off to Raft Cove. I was glad that I did not have to walk. Without a doubt I was excited to camp on the beach with my Rainbow Family.
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
On the Road Again 201# 10
After being home for a couple days I read on Facebook that the produce from the Rainbow Garden was going up to Raft Cove on the north west coast of Vancouver Island. I had seen the garden when I attended the Vision Council a few weeks earlier. It was truly a magnificent garden. The brother who had created ( created is the only word I can think of to describe the work involved in the garden) had on his own initiative with almost no help from anyone produced enough food to feed 100 people for at least a couple of weeks. If he was going to Raft Cove, so was I. It seemed to me that if the food and all of the kitchen equipment was heading north, then that was where I wanted to be.
I took the Greyhound bus to north of Campbell River in part because I have always had some difficulty hitching through and around Nanaimo. In spite of the fact the BC has a reputation of being an easy province to hitch in, there are a few spots where that is not true. Nanaimo is one of those spots. The by-pass around the city is a divided highway where the the speed limit is 110 km an hour. There are signs posted stating that "picking up hitchhikers is illegal". It just seemed to make sense to use Greyhound to get a bit further north.
It was a slow but pleasant ride taking the coastal highway. The bus was fairly crowded but once again my appearance scared of anyone who might think of seating beside me. Of course the down side of this is that I had no one to talk to on the trip. Of course few people talk to each other on a inter-city bus so I suspect that even if I was clean-shaven I would have had no one to talk to.
Buses are such passive means of transportation.... they are boring - the seats are made for shorter people than I who have a lot more padding on their rear ends then I would ever normally want, the conversation is less then stimulating and I find it difficult to read on a bus. I can never achieve that state of relaxation that I find so easily on a train. I was glad to get off of that bus.
I had to wait an hour or so before my first and only ride of the day (a pick up truck) stopped and picked me up. Bob lived down island a bit and was off to Port Hardy to put in a ten day shift hauling logs off of the clear cuts. While I have had lots of drives from people who worked in the periphery of clear cutting (e.g. tree planting) I have never been offered a ride by someone who was so directly involved. It was sort of like being picked up by a transport truck hauling pigs to the abattoir. That driver might not actually slaughter the animals but he surely has some responsibility. Similarly the log truck driver neither cuts down the trees nor does he use the lumber but he is part of the process. On the other hand I use all kinds of paper product and lumber - so therefore I am part of the process too and share some of the responsibility.
Once we had that part of the conversation out of the way, we spent most of the time talking about our kids. Or rather Bob talked about his kids. He and his wife had been foster parents for the past 20 plus years and he said that they had fostered over a 100 kids. Pretty impressive by any one's standards. When one gets to know more than one side of an individual it is virtually impossible to see them just as being all bad. Bob was just a guy doing a job so that he could support his family. I may wish that there were no tree being clear cut, but just because he delivered those tree somewhere did not make him a bad person. In fact I think Bob was a really nice guy who contributed to his community in a meaningful way.
As we got closer to Port Hardy, Bob asked me where I was going to sleep. When I said - by the side of the road, he suggested that I sleep at the trailer park when he stayed while working. I thought he was offering me a spot beside his trailer so I said yes. It turned out that he was suggesting that I rent a campsite. However it was a nice spot and quite close to where I would need to turn off so I paid my $25 and put up my bivy sack. It was a quiet spot with some nature trails and really clean bathrooms. I was glad that I had decided to stay the night.
I took the Greyhound bus to north of Campbell River in part because I have always had some difficulty hitching through and around Nanaimo. In spite of the fact the BC has a reputation of being an easy province to hitch in, there are a few spots where that is not true. Nanaimo is one of those spots. The by-pass around the city is a divided highway where the the speed limit is 110 km an hour. There are signs posted stating that "picking up hitchhikers is illegal". It just seemed to make sense to use Greyhound to get a bit further north.
It was a slow but pleasant ride taking the coastal highway. The bus was fairly crowded but once again my appearance scared of anyone who might think of seating beside me. Of course the down side of this is that I had no one to talk to on the trip. Of course few people talk to each other on a inter-city bus so I suspect that even if I was clean-shaven I would have had no one to talk to.
Buses are such passive means of transportation.... they are boring - the seats are made for shorter people than I who have a lot more padding on their rear ends then I would ever normally want, the conversation is less then stimulating and I find it difficult to read on a bus. I can never achieve that state of relaxation that I find so easily on a train. I was glad to get off of that bus.
I had to wait an hour or so before my first and only ride of the day (a pick up truck) stopped and picked me up. Bob lived down island a bit and was off to Port Hardy to put in a ten day shift hauling logs off of the clear cuts. While I have had lots of drives from people who worked in the periphery of clear cutting (e.g. tree planting) I have never been offered a ride by someone who was so directly involved. It was sort of like being picked up by a transport truck hauling pigs to the abattoir. That driver might not actually slaughter the animals but he surely has some responsibility. Similarly the log truck driver neither cuts down the trees nor does he use the lumber but he is part of the process. On the other hand I use all kinds of paper product and lumber - so therefore I am part of the process too and share some of the responsibility.
Once we had that part of the conversation out of the way, we spent most of the time talking about our kids. Or rather Bob talked about his kids. He and his wife had been foster parents for the past 20 plus years and he said that they had fostered over a 100 kids. Pretty impressive by any one's standards. When one gets to know more than one side of an individual it is virtually impossible to see them just as being all bad. Bob was just a guy doing a job so that he could support his family. I may wish that there were no tree being clear cut, but just because he delivered those tree somewhere did not make him a bad person. In fact I think Bob was a really nice guy who contributed to his community in a meaningful way.
As we got closer to Port Hardy, Bob asked me where I was going to sleep. When I said - by the side of the road, he suggested that I sleep at the trailer park when he stayed while working. I thought he was offering me a spot beside his trailer so I said yes. It turned out that he was suggesting that I rent a campsite. However it was a nice spot and quite close to where I would need to turn off so I paid my $25 and put up my bivy sack. It was a quiet spot with some nature trails and really clean bathrooms. I was glad that I had decided to stay the night.
Monday, August 19, 2013
On the Road Again 2013 #9
I stayed on Salt Spring just for a day or so. My two travelling companions got a job for the day while I spent much of my time trolling the net looking for information as to where the World Gathering was going to be. It was frustrating reading on Facebook conflicting information about where the Gathering was going to be and even more frustrating to read the resulting comments. There are some real dangers in information being circulated on social media such as Facebook. The primary danger is that anyone can say any thing and it is virtually impossible to validate that information. On the the BC Rainbow Facebook page there were conflicting reports as to where the Gathering was going to be - some said it was going to be somewhere in the mountains or others said it was on the north west coast of Vancouver Island. Even more disturbing some of the comments were, quite frankly, less than kind.
At one point I was quite convinced that they had found a site in the mountains and I spent some energy trying to find a way there. I was tempted to go back to the mountains in part because there was a sense that having a Gathering in the Kootaneys might draw attention to the fact that the Sinski First Nation, who had been declared extinct and who were clearly not (they still had their own distinct language) needed some help to prevent a mine from being developed on their traditional territory. On the other hand, I had wanted to go to the north west part of the Vancouver Island. As one person said, the camping there would be epic.
Other writers, who perhaps know more than I, have written much about the World Gathering in BC and all of the issues that arose. It was a flawed process from the very beginning in Brazil when people who had never been to BC decided to have a World Gathering in August - a month in which, for most the past decade, there has been an almost total fire ban. The fact that the world family offered little assistance if any in terms of scouting, financial assistance or even useful advice only confounded the problems. In addition the local scouts who recommended the two sites that were suggested, while there is no doubt that they were sincere, were perhaps a bit too driven by their convictions that they had found the best site. Neither of the scouts did their homework properly -they forgot to check things out and as a consequence both sites became untenable when the local residents made it clear that they did not want the Gathering.
I did not know what I wanted to do. So I went back to Duncan and played with my grand kids. For anyone else who has a complicated issue to think about - I highly recommend playing with ones grandchildren. It really helps to sort out the priorities.
At one point I was quite convinced that they had found a site in the mountains and I spent some energy trying to find a way there. I was tempted to go back to the mountains in part because there was a sense that having a Gathering in the Kootaneys might draw attention to the fact that the Sinski First Nation, who had been declared extinct and who were clearly not (they still had their own distinct language) needed some help to prevent a mine from being developed on their traditional territory. On the other hand, I had wanted to go to the north west part of the Vancouver Island. As one person said, the camping there would be epic.
Other writers, who perhaps know more than I, have written much about the World Gathering in BC and all of the issues that arose. It was a flawed process from the very beginning in Brazil when people who had never been to BC decided to have a World Gathering in August - a month in which, for most the past decade, there has been an almost total fire ban. The fact that the world family offered little assistance if any in terms of scouting, financial assistance or even useful advice only confounded the problems. In addition the local scouts who recommended the two sites that were suggested, while there is no doubt that they were sincere, were perhaps a bit too driven by their convictions that they had found the best site. Neither of the scouts did their homework properly -they forgot to check things out and as a consequence both sites became untenable when the local residents made it clear that they did not want the Gathering.
I did not know what I wanted to do. So I went back to Duncan and played with my grand kids. For anyone else who has a complicated issue to think about - I highly recommend playing with ones grandchildren. It really helps to sort out the priorities.
Sunday, August 18, 2013
On the Road Again 2013 #8
Normally I don't use the real names of those who drive me. I almost never remember to ask for permission to use their names and so I feel as if I shouldn't. I suspect that most of my drivers never read what I write and neither do any of their friends and so it perhaps would not matter what I say or if I use their name - but still it feels wrong. However in the case of those who drove me to the coast and later from Port Hardy to Duncan I think I will break my rule about using real names.
Rosie was from Britain and Ignacio was from Basque (northern Spain). They were travelling around the world visiting places that were interesting to them. I was never too sure why they came to Canada but certainly one of the reasons was to attend the World Rainbow Gathering. I also never asked how they had met, but they were definitely a couple. Which is to say there were brief moments of friction surrounded by long, long periods of being a great team.
Rosie was charming. She was interesting to talk to, she was funny, really smart, had a beautiful smile and a way that made it seem that she was completely focused on the speaker. She was also a conservative driver who showed flashes of what I suspect were illusions of having been a rally driver in another life. It is not that she drove too slowly but rather she was highly conscious that their car was old and not in the greatest of shape. I suspect that Rosie was naturally a nurturer and that tendency extended to her car.
Ignacio on the other hand was, perhaps in another life, a race car driver. He pushed the car harder than I might have and he was not nearly as worried about strange clunking noises coming from the transmission or various warning lights coming on when we exceeded 120 KM an hour. I felt very comfortable when either of them driving - it was fun to watch their different driving skills . Ignacio and I had a relationship based on arguing ( is any one who knows me surprised?). When we first met we had this whole shtick routine worked out before we really knew each other where he assumed that colonist such as myself were far inferior to those from Europe. Someone over hearing us assumed that we were really angry at each other. We were just goofing around. We had a number of such "arguments" later in out relationship. We also had some great discussions...... about music and about travelling and about people that we knew or at least observed. Ignacio had an almost insatiable need for information and was always asking questions. He was a thinking and a forward looking planner. He loved to make plans but never seemed to care if those plans were changed. He also loved music and he never seemed more alive than when he was playing his guitar around a campfire.
They were a fun couple to travel with which was a good thing as we spent a lot of time in that car of theirs. the drive from Winlaw to the West Coast was long and tiring. For much of that time there were 2 of us in the back seat plus some other stuff. The seat was quite low and the leg room was limited. There were hours and hours ( or at least that is how it felt) of being numb in the rear end and stiff in the knees. It felt as if we made a lot of stops - to get some fresh water at a road side spring, to get gas and something to eat, to get coffee at Tim Hortons etc. Every stop seemed to take too long. We were not efficient or in-a-hurry travellers. It spite of the fact that we wanted to make the last ferry to Salt Spring Island we just couldn't keep the momentum up.
We took highway #3. It might not have been the best engineered road in the world, nor the smoothest but t was the most direct route and we got to see some interesting scenes along the way. In fact it was a great choice of road until we hit Kelowna at around 5:00 on a Friday night. It took us well over an hour to get get through that city. Really tiring.
We finally got to the Tsawwassen Ferry Terminal. We had had the hope that there was a direct ferry to Salt Spring Island at 9:00. We were wrong. It left at 8:30. We had missed it by 20 minutes or so. Our best options was to take the ferry to Victoria, spend the night at the terminal and then catch the first ferry to Salt Spring the next morning.
It was the second time this summer that I have slept at a ferry terminal. While this time I had the tacit approval of the terminal, the lights in the parking lot were so bright that it was hard to sleep.
We got on the ferry the next morning and we were in Salt Spring in time for breakfast. Another trip that was successful in terms of getting there and back again but still it felt unfulfilling in terms of actually have accomplished very much.
Rosie was from Britain and Ignacio was from Basque (northern Spain). They were travelling around the world visiting places that were interesting to them. I was never too sure why they came to Canada but certainly one of the reasons was to attend the World Rainbow Gathering. I also never asked how they had met, but they were definitely a couple. Which is to say there were brief moments of friction surrounded by long, long periods of being a great team.
Rosie was charming. She was interesting to talk to, she was funny, really smart, had a beautiful smile and a way that made it seem that she was completely focused on the speaker. She was also a conservative driver who showed flashes of what I suspect were illusions of having been a rally driver in another life. It is not that she drove too slowly but rather she was highly conscious that their car was old and not in the greatest of shape. I suspect that Rosie was naturally a nurturer and that tendency extended to her car.
Ignacio on the other hand was, perhaps in another life, a race car driver. He pushed the car harder than I might have and he was not nearly as worried about strange clunking noises coming from the transmission or various warning lights coming on when we exceeded 120 KM an hour. I felt very comfortable when either of them driving - it was fun to watch their different driving skills . Ignacio and I had a relationship based on arguing ( is any one who knows me surprised?). When we first met we had this whole shtick routine worked out before we really knew each other where he assumed that colonist such as myself were far inferior to those from Europe. Someone over hearing us assumed that we were really angry at each other. We were just goofing around. We had a number of such "arguments" later in out relationship. We also had some great discussions...... about music and about travelling and about people that we knew or at least observed. Ignacio had an almost insatiable need for information and was always asking questions. He was a thinking and a forward looking planner. He loved to make plans but never seemed to care if those plans were changed. He also loved music and he never seemed more alive than when he was playing his guitar around a campfire.
They were a fun couple to travel with which was a good thing as we spent a lot of time in that car of theirs. the drive from Winlaw to the West Coast was long and tiring. For much of that time there were 2 of us in the back seat plus some other stuff. The seat was quite low and the leg room was limited. There were hours and hours ( or at least that is how it felt) of being numb in the rear end and stiff in the knees. It felt as if we made a lot of stops - to get some fresh water at a road side spring, to get gas and something to eat, to get coffee at Tim Hortons etc. Every stop seemed to take too long. We were not efficient or in-a-hurry travellers. It spite of the fact that we wanted to make the last ferry to Salt Spring Island we just couldn't keep the momentum up.
We took highway #3. It might not have been the best engineered road in the world, nor the smoothest but t was the most direct route and we got to see some interesting scenes along the way. In fact it was a great choice of road until we hit Kelowna at around 5:00 on a Friday night. It took us well over an hour to get get through that city. Really tiring.
We finally got to the Tsawwassen Ferry Terminal. We had had the hope that there was a direct ferry to Salt Spring Island at 9:00. We were wrong. It left at 8:30. We had missed it by 20 minutes or so. Our best options was to take the ferry to Victoria, spend the night at the terminal and then catch the first ferry to Salt Spring the next morning.
It was the second time this summer that I have slept at a ferry terminal. While this time I had the tacit approval of the terminal, the lights in the parking lot were so bright that it was hard to sleep.
We got on the ferry the next morning and we were in Salt Spring in time for breakfast. Another trip that was successful in terms of getting there and back again but still it felt unfulfilling in terms of actually have accomplished very much.
Saturday, August 17, 2013
On the Road Again 2013 #7
The next morning I slept in a bit and then went out for breakfast. Not the best breakfast -I don't understand why it is so hard to make good home fries -but as I had not eaten much the day before I was glad of anything that filled me up. I was especially glad of the large pot of tea that came with the order
I had called the farm where the Rainbow scouts were staying and they had promised to pick me up if I got to the little town of Winlaw. I, at that time, did not understand that the owners of the farm were just providing a place for the scouts to hang out and that they were not really part of the scouting group. I may of been a bit pushier than I should have been asking for a ride. I never got the chance to apologize but I wish I had. They were good folks at the Farm.
The local bus system worked well. I got to the little town ( which really was just a gas station/grocery store on one side of the highway and a restaurant and health food store on the other) and after about an hours wait got a drive to the farm.To get there we had to go though a bit of a road block.
There had been an oil spill into the Slocan River a few days before and there had been a small forest fall up on the mountain near the farm. There were helicopters buzzing around and lots of conversation as to whether the spill had been deliberate or whether there really was a forest fire that required seven helicopters. There was speculation that the mine that was being developed on the mountain (on a non-seeded bit of land belonging to First Nation) was really the reason for all of the created chaos. Regardless of what was happening, the helicopters did make for interesting watching.
The general tone of the 8-9 people who were there was disappointment or depression. They had been looking for a site for the past 10 days and had been able to find nothing suitable. It was quite clear what was needed - a large meadow the would allow for one circle or 2 concentric circles of 500-800 people, lots of parking, safe drinking water and somewhere that it would be safe to have a fire. it turned out that there was no where in the area that met those requirements.
That night after supper, huddled under a shelter as it was pouring rain, the general discussion was that the International Gathering would not be held in the Kootaney area. It was frustrating for everyone. I had spent 2 days getting here ready to help build the kitchen for this large Gathering. Instead I was going to have to get back to Duncan and wait for a decision as to where it was going to be. I felt as if I had wasted my time and my money. Fortunately just shortly after I had gotten there, a couple had arrived looking for the Gathering. I say fortunately because they were planning on going back to the coast and they offered me a drive at least part of the way back. I had met him on Salt Spring at Sally's and so once again the " Sally connection" had proved very useful.
Early the next morning we packed up our wet tents and loaded 4 adults (another traveller was also coming with us) and one rather extraordinarily well behave dog that he had picked up in South Africa in to a Cutlass station wagon named the White Fox.
It was to be a long and interesting day.
I had called the farm where the Rainbow scouts were staying and they had promised to pick me up if I got to the little town of Winlaw. I, at that time, did not understand that the owners of the farm were just providing a place for the scouts to hang out and that they were not really part of the scouting group. I may of been a bit pushier than I should have been asking for a ride. I never got the chance to apologize but I wish I had. They were good folks at the Farm.
The local bus system worked well. I got to the little town ( which really was just a gas station/grocery store on one side of the highway and a restaurant and health food store on the other) and after about an hours wait got a drive to the farm.To get there we had to go though a bit of a road block.
There had been an oil spill into the Slocan River a few days before and there had been a small forest fall up on the mountain near the farm. There were helicopters buzzing around and lots of conversation as to whether the spill had been deliberate or whether there really was a forest fire that required seven helicopters. There was speculation that the mine that was being developed on the mountain (on a non-seeded bit of land belonging to First Nation) was really the reason for all of the created chaos. Regardless of what was happening, the helicopters did make for interesting watching.
The general tone of the 8-9 people who were there was disappointment or depression. They had been looking for a site for the past 10 days and had been able to find nothing suitable. It was quite clear what was needed - a large meadow the would allow for one circle or 2 concentric circles of 500-800 people, lots of parking, safe drinking water and somewhere that it would be safe to have a fire. it turned out that there was no where in the area that met those requirements.
That night after supper, huddled under a shelter as it was pouring rain, the general discussion was that the International Gathering would not be held in the Kootaney area. It was frustrating for everyone. I had spent 2 days getting here ready to help build the kitchen for this large Gathering. Instead I was going to have to get back to Duncan and wait for a decision as to where it was going to be. I felt as if I had wasted my time and my money. Fortunately just shortly after I had gotten there, a couple had arrived looking for the Gathering. I say fortunately because they were planning on going back to the coast and they offered me a drive at least part of the way back. I had met him on Salt Spring at Sally's and so once again the " Sally connection" had proved very useful.
Early the next morning we packed up our wet tents and loaded 4 adults (another traveller was also coming with us) and one rather extraordinarily well behave dog that he had picked up in South Africa in to a Cutlass station wagon named the White Fox.
It was to be a long and interesting day.
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