Adventures and Misadventures

This has been quite a strange week. It may have had something to do with the Full Moon in Scorpio, which appeared mid-week, bringing a new set of extremes: low low tides, extraordinary social activity, and sleeplessness. Last Saturday, kicked it off. 

I’ve fallen into a routine here at Nootka over the past seven weeks, but last Saturday everything I usually do, I did just a little differently. This, I expect, contributed to my misadventure. To begin with, the 7:30am weather had me stymied. I stared around at the dense fog that enveloped us like a horseshoe, and up, at the clear blue sky above, and thought, where are the clouds? Eventually, with time pressing, I settled on X- (partially obscured) and a remark that I could actually see 15 miles to the south.

After the fog cleared, though I didn’t feel like going for a walk, I went anyway. I’ve been hiking and rock-climbing in my clunky rubber bogs for the past seven weeks, but decided to wear my grey running shoes. I don’t wear them much. I don’t even like them. In fact, I’ve almost given them away a few times, but they’re asics and waterproof, so... Moral of the story: always trust your intuition.

On the way back, I detoured to chat with a lovely Nuu-chah-nulth woman and a biologist, who had overnighted on their sailboat, with her son and their dogs. We photographed this sea otter, who was lunching in the cove, and then a flotilla of kayakers disembarked on the beach.

On my way home, I was halfway across the driftwood log, that I cross several times a week, when I realized I was still holding my wolf stick in hand. I turned back and stashed it, then started across the log again. Almost at the end, distracted by the kayakers, my left foot caught on a root and CRASH! I got up, shook it off, chatted briefly with the kayakers--who saw me fall--and climbed up the rock to the lighthouse.

The rest of that day and the next is a blur of ice packs. I walked around in a sleep-deprived haze for a few days afterwards as sleep was a challenge. Still, I was thankful.

Two other women fell out here on the coast this week and needed a medi-vac. This is not the place to get hurt. My wound, which was quite swollen to begin with, settled down with the ice. It was not painful, and I could walk. I’ve been using my new essential oils all week: first melaleuca (tea tree) on the open wound, and then lavender, and today frankincense. All three heal skin irritations and wounds. 

One week later. The bruise is 8.5” x 3”, and the abrasion is healing well. No doubt, I'll carry a Nootka scar forever.

We were inundated with visitors this week. The Uchuck III made a surprise stop on Wednesday. They were carrying a class of students from Napanee, Ontario, whose school partners with Gold River. The ship released its passengers and left for three hours. Mark and I sat out, soaking up the brilliant sunshine and chatting with folks who ventured up the rock. We swapped travel stories with a lovely couple from Ottawa, and met a young man from Holland, who’d just completed his MA in Forestry at UBC (five years) and secured a job in Rochester, NY. The world is a strange place, indeed. I managed to sunburn, just my left arm, but slathered aloe on it, and it too has recovered.  

The next day, we were surprised again by the arrival of a chopper. Craig, from Grizzly Helicopters, brought two young technicians from Environment Canada, who spent hours checking our weather books and equipment, and installed new max and min thermometers. Hurray! The weather was perfect, the rhododendron exploded into bloom, and we sat outside swapping stories, again.

Then, last night, we were surprised a third time, by a visit from Tom, Anne, and Brian of the Coastal Messenger. This is a group of dedicated people whose mission is Christian outreach, up and down the Pacific coast from Olympia to Alaska. Anne gave me a goody bag, and I’ve already cracked the grape jam, and had it for breakfast this morning on my toast. Yum. Thanks so much.

With only six days left at Nootka, I am back into my routine--it's safer that way. I still have things to do: get back to the pebble beach and explore the inland lake. The weather looks promising and so does my shin. Let’s hope there are no more misadventures. Oh yes, about those grey runners...