Catching a Ferry - The Elusive Tsawwassen

Aimee has officially made the move to Victoria, settling in to a lovely apartment in Cook Street Village.  I have come to spend time with her over the Thanksgiving weekend.  Which is more than I can say for her furniture and more importantly, her bed.  The moving company has told her that her belongings should arrive in about a week.  In the meantime, she is on an airbed and I am on a foamy.  Reminds me of those days when the only furniture we owned was a deep freeze, a gift from my mother-in-law who believed in the value of preserving food.

Looking around this room, there is something charming and imaginative about a space with no furniture.  Possibilities.

The weather in BC these days is inspiring!  Sunshine and lots of warmth.  I didn't see one cloud in the sky all the way from Nelson to here.  We will take it.  After such a soggy spring/early summer.

The pointy fingers of winter are reaching out.  The morning I left, we had our first frost.  Not a hard frost as people like to say.  On my way down from the Bonanza Pass at 10:30 am, I noticed the road was wet looking; eventually I caught up with a truck that had a sign on the back - "De-icing in progress.  Stay back 35 metres."  I am not ready for ice anything.  The winter tires are tucked in the shed back home.  The days can fool us into thinking summer is going to stay but when that sun goes down, it is different story.

I was surprised at how many RVs I saw on the road, especially heading out of the lower mainland.  Opportunists.  Go while you can.   I try to avoid long weekends on BC roads; there is so much traffic and I don't like following anyone or having anyone follow me.  Which is tricky on windy roads with few passing lanes.   My frustration with the traffic was trumped by the gorgeous scenery.  Leaves are turning; the sky is blue.  Nature is showing off for us all.

I reached the lower mainland in mid-afternoon, stopped in Chilliwack where a store clerk told me that it would be 4 to 5 hours longer.  What route do you take? I asked.  She had no shortcuts.  Take Route 10 from Highway 1.  Through Langley.  Which is an important point for what was about to happen down the road.

Once I got off the Freeway, I noted the green sign, an straight arrow at the top, the words BC Ferries and a picture of a boat.  I saw them again and again as I zigzagged my way to the Georgia Strait.  Then I saw a sign that said for Surrey to take the right lane and Langley go straight ahead.  Remembering the store clerk, I didn't follow the line of traffic turning to the right.  Surrey is one of the fastest growing cities in Canada so it makes a lot of sense that people would be headed there.

And then I was in downtown Langley.  Offices and shops and coffee joints.  Something was wrong.  The U-turn that I did in the middle of the street was the next clue that I was no where near where I needed to be.

I backtracked.  Having remembered my map, I knew I that Route 10 was where I wanted to be - that is until I could get to Highway 17.  I found Route 10 and headed towards Surrey.  The familiar Ferry signs reappeared.  All was well.

Back in a pile of traffic, keeping my eyes peeled for the signs.  I didn't want to miss anything.  I looked at the clock - it was about 55 minutes until the next ferry left.  I followed the truck that was merging left.  I saw a small sign showing the right exit - it had a picture of a boat on it.  If you have been to the lower mainland, you would know that there are lots of boats.  A marina, perhaps?

The merge left veered to the right and around a cloverleaf.  I saw a sign - Surrey, next 4 exits.  Surrey?  Straight ahead of me was Mt. Baker.  I was going back in the same direction I was on the freeway.

Mt Baker in my rearview mirror

The next sign I saw was the highway notification.  I was on Highway 99, heading south.  Heading towards - Seattle.  I decided to take the next exit.  White Rock.  I found a pullout and pulled out the map.  White Rock, although on the Georgia Strait, has no access to Tsawwassen.  The map was pretty useless for figuring out how to get me back.

I did a U-Turn at the next lights.  When I saw my next options, I decided Vancouver made a lot more sense than Seattle.  Heading north.  An overhead sign said that Highway 17 was 10 minutes ahead.  Highway 17?  My Highway 17?  Ten minutes later, I read the exit sign - BC Ferries.  Yes!  I got in the right lane.  And so did everyone else.  And the traffic stopped.

The time was 6:45.  Would I make the 7 o'clock ferry?  Was the next one at 9?  Data plans - this is the moment that they were created for.  But I don't have one.  I have a paper map that has rip marks in the fold lines.  I inched my way with everyone else to the very-short stop lights.  Agony.

Finally it was my turn.  And we all sped down Highway 17.  The overhead sign said, "Swartz Bay - One ferry sailing wait."  All of my 7 o'clock dreams fizzled.  The next hope was the bottom part of the sign that said the 8 o'clock ferry was 46% full.  I didn't even know there was an 8 o'clock ferry.  I would have known that if I had a data plan.  If I had a data plan, I wouldn't be doing a happy dance like I was in the car right then.

At the ferry terminal, I got in my queue.   After I paid, I couldn't help myself from asking the cashier, "If I would have been 30 minutes earlier, would I have got the 7 o'clock ferry?"  That seemed to be the amount of time that I took for my "detours."

"No," she said, "it was full early."   I never thought of how I would feel if she said yes.

So, if I hadn't got lost - twice - I would have been sitting in a ferry lineup.  Motoring around the lower mainland or waiting.  Which would I pick?

And what did I learn from my misadventures?  If I came that way again, would I do the same thing?  As I was thinking about what I needed to know so I didn't need to repeat this incident, I realized that I have actually done this route before.  A few years ago.  And I didn't get lost. 

If you think that's cold....

Nearly a month now since I hung out on the lower mainland and Bellingham area. One day when Aimee was at work and Josh was home from work, Josh and I went touring. I had seen on a map that there was lots of lakes around the Vancouver area, and it piqued my interest. One spot in particular. Aimee had been to Buntzen Lake earlier in the year. Buntzen Lake made a big impression on her, because every time we hung out at a beach when she came to visit the Kootenays, Buntzen Lake was the measuring stick. "Oh," she would say, "this is much warmer than Buntzen Lake." "Oh," she would say, "this is much colder than Buntzen Lake." Well, actually come to think about it, nothing was colder than Buntzen Lake.

Buntzen Lake is not too far from their home. It is a part of Belcarra Regional Park and Buntzen Lake Recreation Area. Both located directly across Burrard Inlet from Barnet Marine Park. Here's the map...


When we got to Buntzen Lake, the sun had already slid behind the mountain, and most of the people there were not IN the water. They were hanging their fishing poles over the dock. Here's Buntzen Lake...



Josh and I continued our exploration. He brought me next to Sasamat Lake, specifically called White Pine Beach. Here's the view...



These beaches are P-O-P-U-L-A-R. Here's a description: "In hot months the beaches at Belcarra's Sasamat Lake and at nearby Buntzen Lake are so popular that park information signs will tell you if Belcarra and Buntzen are full. You can probably sense this on a hot day before you even leave the house. On weekends, unless you get an early start for their beaches, look elsewhere for a destination."

When Josh and I visited, the parking lots and beaches were quite empty. So, if you want to visit there, just ask Josh or I - we'll give you the best visiting times advice if you want to avoid the crowds!

More about White Pine Beach..... "There's one critical difference between this beach and nearby Buntzen Lake: although the sun shines equally warm on both, the water in Buntzen is far colder than in Sasamat."

Aimee, who actually swam in that lake, can attest to that.

An Early Birthday

Nine days to be exact. Spending birthdays together with family can be quite the choreography. We couldn't all be together to celebrate Aimee's exact birthdate but we were able to gather 9 days ahead. Even Julia came along to the event. Unfortunately Josh had to work so didn't hang out with us for the day.

Event 1 of the day was opening of the gift (from Josh)...



This was definitely the most fancy inside of any wallet I have ever seen.

Event 2 was the rousing of the guests....



We signed the cast before we left for:

Event 3: lunch at Milestone's. What was memorable was the assurance that there was no cilantro in the soup. Man, whoever decided that was food rather than a weed.

Event 4: Granville Island - one very groovy place to hang out. There we found the birthday cake. Cakes. Everyone gets to choose their own!!




Event 5: Stanley Park and English Bay: We dried our ocean-dipped and sandy-coated feet sitting on a log and enjoying the sunshine.

Event 6: Dinner at Him's - my favourite sushi hangout on Denman Avenue.

Before:


After:


Event 7: Blowing out the candles and more presents for the birthday girl!!

August on the Lower Mainland

I journeyed to the west coast on Saturday the 9th; this is the first time in a couple of years that I have travelled during tourist season. It was some busy on Highway 3, considered to be the most scenic drive to the coast. I think the marketing has done the job.

I remembered long ago when my mother used to take road trips that she would calculate the gas mileage by figuring out the fuel cost per hour. At some point, she related to me that she got $5.00 per hour on one trip. This journey, I decided to figure out the mileage my mother's way. From Castlegar to Chilliwack, I travelled for $6.00 an hour. So what's changed in over 20 years? My mom was driving a Chrysler Imperial and I now have a Honda Civic.

Speaking of my mother, I spent some of my day admiring my birthday gift from her:



After my purchase, I was told by many people that I had a tennis bracelet. Apparent Chris Evert was the first to wear diamonds on the tennis court. This is not diamonds, but they certainly shine like they are.

My trip down to the coast was a potpourri of weather. Rain, and sun. During one stop, I heard thunder. All was for the good because I was travelling with Julia and she did not need the heat. Here is a picture taken of Sunshine Valley:



And here is a promise of the week to come while I am away from home:

Sunshine

We found the sun! Interestingly enough, we travelled to find it. Sunshine Coast. How well named.

Josh and Aimee each had a day off on the day I wanted to go see a part of British Columbia I have never seen. I have some vague memory of it from watching the Beachcombers on Sunday night television for years. Getting to the Sunshine Coast requires a ferry ride. There are also two other choices: a plane or a very long hike.

We went to the Lower Sunshine Coast. There is another ferry ride to take people to Powell River, further up the coast. Here is a description from the Sunshine Coast Employment Centre:

"The Lower Sunshine Coast is home to approximately 26,000 people and is a diverse community with unique challenges and opportunities. Accessible only by ferry or air, the "Coast" is a conglomerate of a number of self-contained communities that stretch along a ribbon of highway, 150 kilometers long, from Port Mellon to Egmont."

Our first stop was:



We found our way to the ocean:


Sechelt means land between two waters. An isthmus a friendly resident told me. He said to be sure to go to Porpoise Bay. This is the sandy side of the water. The tide was out so we got to see many gifts from the sea:






This next photo was a baby lobster who Josh rescued and sent back to the sea.


We combed the beach, and I chatted with a biologist from the San Juan Islands who gave me a brief introduction on the stories the sand tells. I learnt about lug worms, and how vital they are to the health of a beach; and I learnt how to detect lug worm shit, because of course the actual worm dwells under the sand. I am delighted to report that there were many sightings of lug worm shit.

And the sun shone. At last we got our RDA of Vitamin D.

Josh's summation of Porpoise Bay: "There are no porpoises here. They should have called it Bay."

White Rock

Lots of rain this journey. The good part is that Rose, who is taking care of my garden back home, has a light load. The bad part is though I remembered to bring a jacket that is water resistant, it is getting old now and has a couple of leak spots, and I have no umbrella. I did bring my closed-toed shoes. I am not sure I would call what has been happening here rain; it is more like a shower from the universe.

One day Josh and I hung out, some of it in front of the TV. Him and I had a discussion about watching the weather forecasts; he likes to know what to expect. For me, when I saw that the next 5 days of my holidays were going to be rain-logged, well... I wasn't delighted. Wouldn't it be better, I said to him, to wake up each morning, hopeful about possibilities of sun?

As one woman I met this journey said, "Enjoy the rain. That's what you got." While perhaps I didn't enjoy the rain all the time, I didn't let it stop me.

My journeys this week have been around various cities on the lower mainland. I have been to Cloverdale, Langley, New Westminster, Downtown, and Surrey.

And White Rock.

My friend, BJ, who lives in Bellingham suggested that we go for dinner. We agreed on White Rock, which is close to the Washington border, and perhaps a half way point. We each left at 5 pm; I was at Brentwood Mall, minutes from the freeway. My task was to get travel down the freeway for about 20 kms and then it was about another 8 kms to White Rock. Everyone who lives on the lower mainland, it seems was on that freeway at that time. BJ called me on my cell at 5:35 to say that she had arrived. Luckily she brought a book. I arrived at 6:15, very road weary. White Rock is a good antidote.

We ate at Moby Dick's, a popular place that serves fish and chips. Here's a trick for ordering fish and chips at Moby's - they always add on another piece. So if you want two pieces of fish, order one. If you want one piece, well, I think you are hooped. Moby's is one happening place; it is small and busy; tables move quickly. BJ and I agreed after ordering coleslaw to pass on that menu item. The woman at the next table said, actually don't order anything green. Otherwise, it was a hit! Pretty different fare from what my body has been used to; not a good day to forget the digestive enzymes at home.

After our dinner, we walked along the ocean on a delightful seawall. It was here that I learned how the place got its name:



This is not a small rock; here I am reading the writing on the rock:



Here is the Wikipedia description of how the white rock landed where it did:

"White Rock is named for a distinctive large white boulder found on its beach near the promenade. A glacial erratic that migrated south during the last glaciation. The 486-ton granite boulder was kept white by shellfish-eating seabirds, whose guano covered the rock, so much so that sailors in the 19th century used it as a beacon. However, it now remains white through frequent applications of white paint by the city parks department, as it has been a popular graffiti target for over thirty years."

Another famed event attached to White Rock was a sandcastle competition, which began in 1979 and ceased in 1987; it had international status.

"A revival of the sandcastle building competition as a family event is being held August 3, 2008 during the 59th Annual Spirit of the Sea Festival."

Here's the info: White Rock Sandcastle Competition

Apparently White Rock has more sun that Vancouver. And it did look like there were possibilities:


Well, as I have not been watching the weather forecast, there are many possibilities.

To the Coast

On May 31st, I left Nelson to travel to the coast. The day began bright and sunny, an inspiring drive.



The first mountain pass is about an hour for home. Here is the top:



Descending from the Paulson Summit, the next community is Christina Lake. The land offers the lake in a spectacular surprise; the road winds around a corner, and then the lake pops into view. This sight can only be viewed one way. The charm of driving in the mountains is that the road looks completely different going the other way.


There are 5 mountain passes between Nelson and the lower mainland. Mountains everywhere.

In front:


And behind:

The 2nd Annual Great Perogy Event

Unfortunately, the first annual event was not documented. This year, though, I shook off the flour from my hands and found the camera.

In reality, the perogy-making event happens every year. We owe years and years of thanks to my mother who determinedly enhanced our Christmas with the best perogies in the land, doing the entire work on her own. And now, she is mentoring the rest of us.

Perogies are a delightful introduction from the Ukrainians who brought their culinary delights when they came across the ocean. Someone said once upon a time that each culture has its own potato-filled, dough-based delectable. Samosas is another example. Perogies have become a rich tradition in our family, and my mother, as many others, has made it her own, borrowing ideas off of others and refining it. The recipe that circles in our family has a cheese-based filling, with onions and bacon.

To make the perogies, there are two parts - the dough and the filling. What makes our perogy-making a GREAT event is that the whole family rolls up their shirt sleeves and participates. We get to hang out for a few hours, chattering and busily working alongside each other. Then we get to eat them.

Here's the perogy-making process - the chronicles of the 2nd year event!

Step One: Boil potatoes and mash.


Step Two: More cheese, please.


Step Three: Making the dough. The dough recipe is very simple - sour cream and flour. The sour cream cannot be low fat - it just isn't the same. I think Penny can attest to this.


Step Four: Kneading the dough. Here we have the very trained professional.






Step Five: Making the rounds.


Step Six: The filling goes in the rounds, folded in half and then pinched shut.


Step Seven: Then the perogies are slipped into boiling water. When they float, they are done!


Step Eight: Bliss.

What is curious is that in all the pictures that I took, there are none of
(a) the finished 94 perogies or
(b) the eating event.
Curious.

Christmas Away From Home

I caught the Greyhound 8 days ago, bound for the coast as the inlanders like to say. The Greyhound was full of holiday travellers so I ended up on charter buses, and I got the front seat. One of my co-travellers, Miriam, had the choice before me but declined it, saying that she didn't want to tell me why. I never asked.

What followed us the whole distance was weather. Here's a view on the road on the Blueberry Paulson:


I had many travelling companions: two Robs - one who drove the bus to Kelowna, and the other who sat beside me and who had not travelled on a bus for 27 years - some of his time he spent counting the number of places where cars had slid into the ditch. I had a little chat with him at #8 and he was convinced that there were more fun ways to spend time on a bus. In 14 hours, I visited with Brigida and Vito who sat directly behind me, Miriam who just returned from Guatemala, Stephanie, Morgan and Marilyn. I also finished writing my Christmas cards, read, listened to music, and did Sudoku.

We had great fun in Coquitlam, where we celebrated with almost the whole family. We had a bonus of a white Christmas:


Four days after Christmas, I caught another Greyhound to Kelowna, where my dear friend Elizabeth had rented a lovely place. Here is a great place to hang out...

Milestone Birthday and the Weather

I am sitting on the side of a mountain, a very regular thing to do when you live in BC, and watching the snow accumulate on the greenery. I am many hours away from my house, and had I been able to catch the Greyhound this morning, I would be 4 hours closer to home by now. But we could not get down the mountain and taxis do not come up here. Winter has arrived on the lower mainland.

I am here for the celebration of my friend's "Milestone Birthday" - one of my co-workers suggested a gift of a stone to mark this event. I found an Inukshuk which is one impressive milestone.

I met my friend 29 years ago at 2:30 am. What is fuzzier is the actual month or time of the year. This reminded me of an archaeological phenomenon. Some time ago, I read a book about the Maya archaeological site of Ceren, a site that was discovered by a equipment operator working on building new houses. Ceren was covered in volcanic ash; this event happened quickly so everything was preserved. The archaeologists could tell the time of the day it occurred but they could not tell the year.

When I met Deborah, I was working late in my lower-level apartment. Each time I began typing (yes, it was a typewriter in those days), I heard a noise upstairs. After doing more of the experiment, I walked outside (it wasn't winter - another clue) and knocked on the door. And that began a several decade friendship.

We were in our early 20s then, and each had toddlers who were the same age. Like the people in Ceren, we had our dailyness - working, laundry, dishes, and doing all of that while caring for our children.

There are many ways of preserving memories - in volcanic ash or what we carry inside of us.

December 1st

I arrived in Coquitlam yesterday morning on the Greyhound. At some point as I was looking at the landscape that was passing by, I remembered the many bus journeys I took home for holidays when I was working in the big city as a young woman. My mother will recall the stories I spurted out when I got off the bus, for each trips seemed to have its own adventure.

It was Grey Goose Bus Lines that travelled through Manitoba those days. And it did seem that my night travels were full of more stories than days. What has not changed over the years on those night buses is the groggy people who are wakened in the middle of the night when the bus reaches a new destination. My companions this journey included a woman who was on her way to Vancouver for emergency eye surgery; she talked about her whirlwind of a day - when it began she had no idea that that night she would be sleeping in a Greyhound. Or even what was in store for her when she arrived. I am thinking she was grateful that the retina problem was discovered before our only eye doctor went on vacation for a month. I am thinking she could use a friendly gesture on a long bus ride.

The bus driver was a friendly type of guy himself. He joked with each one of us as we lined up to give him our tickets - where we were going, and tales of the night before. When the half dozen teenage girls got on the bus l/2 hour down the road, he said to them, "yeah, girl power!" Along the way, whenever we were in cell range, the young women got on their phones. After one conversation, one of the young women said to the others, "Here's the advice she gave: Stick together. Don't talk to strangers." They all laughed.

I remember those days, of sending my children off into the world, and wondering what they would encounter, and if they would happen upon the evils depicted in movies. And then I remembered how I laughed when my mother told (ummm... tells) of the dangers in the world.

Our work as mothers is to make sure that our children are safe in the world. Our work as children is to go out into the world and experience it.

We, then, shall always have advice, and the inevitable rolling of the eyes.

And so I landed in Coquitlam at a time that can be neither called morning nor night. There might only be one thing worse than arriving at a destination at that time and that would be to wake up and go and meet the bus. Which Aimee and Josh did, with smiles on their faces. And I thought again about mothers and their children - how fortunate I am to be each one of those.

Commuting

Day Seven of my vacation, and the first chance I have got to do a posting. My intentions were good. Travels. Posts. And then I had this most brilliant idea about taking the Myers Briggs Type Indicator training that just happened to be occurring in Vancouver the same time that I would be here for my vacation. An opportunity indeed.

The first day of the four-day workshop was on the third day of my vacation. Aimee and I spent the day before hanging out at the shops, and I was successful in acquiring shoes more appropriate for the big city, according to my daughter, who is so all over fashion that I must pay attention when she speaks.

On Monday, then, I got up, ready for my commute. I am staying with Aimee, who lives in Coquitlam. The workshop was in downtown Vancouver, 42 minutes away according to Google Maps and MapQuest. But both Josh and Aimee's advice was to stay off the freeway even though that was recommended, so I followed Route 7A into the city, allowing hour or more from my advisors. So for 4 days of my vacation, I got up with Aimee at 6 am, as she was commuting as well, and went into Vancouver.

My 4 days of commuting, which just happened to coincide with a new survey about how regular commuters spend about 3 years of their lives going back and forth to work, I shied away from the draggy part and paid more attention to the novelty. Each of those times back and forth into the city, I noticed that all commutes are not equal. It is the stop and go part of it that is a drag for everyone, but I actually found a flow to the drive one morning. The traffic, though moving quite slowly, kept moving. And certainly for someone with a standard transmission, that is a welcome event as it sure decreases the amount of time shifting, and engaging the clutch.

What else I noticed was that on the way to work, there is an aura of calm resignation - but on the way home, there is a sense of urgency. Once on the way home when I was on the Inlet Highway where the speed limit is 80 km, I looked down at my odometer as I was following traffic. Many people were passing me and I was going 100 k/hour.

Fall is settling in. Here is a photo as I was leaving from Aimee's cul-de-sac one morning:

I descended into the valley, and became immersed in the mists:


But the clouds were shortlived. Later on that day, from the hotel in downtown Vancouver where our workshop was happening:
And the final commute into Vancouver:


Today while Aimee was off to work, Josh and I went to new shops, where we found several treasures. Later, we went to pick up Aimee and I got to commute the other direction. At the end of our drive, I got to see the new store (from the outside only) where Aimee is working. It isn't even open yet... but it will be soon... the countdown is happening... as well as the mad rush... very exciting.


So now I have done five days of commuting. I need a vacation!

The Line Up

We were very clever, we thought, leaving Vancouver on Saturday morning instead of Good Friday. By then, we imagined, most of the travellers south would have already passed through the border. When we reached the truck crossing, it was evident, that we would be waiting in a line up. As we turned to the second border crossing, thinking that this one would be shorter, Aimee found the radio station with the expected wait times at the border: one hour for either crossing.

And so we amused ourselves. We pulled out our cameras when traffic came to a halt at:


Outside the shop we saw the fountain:


We moved on, with the ocean on one side (low tide), and rows of cars on either side of us. Inside the car, Aimee kept busy:


We got the broccoli out of our teeth:


So we were ready for:


And we inched our way to the border crossing, having chosen the slowest lane. When it was finally our turn, the border guard smiled at us and said, "Where were you? I've been waiting an hour for you."