The Private Party

Listen Lady--this is a PRIVATE party! Invitation only.

Really? It looks to me like ANYONE can join.

"They didn't invite me," groaned the old sea dog.

"Or me!" chirped the oyster catcher.

"Just wait till that sea creature returns that left these prints! Then they'll be sorry they didn't invite us."

My Yoga Challenge

I can’t speak for everyone, but after injuring myself, I was afraid to do much of anything, especially movement that might cause more pain. When I slipped a month ago, I bruised my ribs; then I picked up a piece of plywood that invoked an intense muscle spasm just left of my spine, and angered a hiatus hernia. Just eating or sleeping or shifting would set off the pain. 

Now, I know the only way back from bruised ribs is rest and so I’ve been resting and protecting my sore spots. Most of my reading says from 4-6 weeks and this is week 5. The acute pain has lessened to a widespread ache, especially in the afternoon when the muscles tire in my upper back. So today I’m being my new yoga practice.

I discovered a great video series on youtube called “Namaste Yoga” with instruction by Dr. Melissa West. This morning I did her beginner’s practice--Yoga 101. This is cool because she has over 100 different yoga sessions free on youtube. Because I live in an isolated location, there’s just Melissa and me and my new travelling yoga mat. (The mat works well over a rug, but I’m still trying to get the smell of the rubber to dissipate--I’ve washed it and hung it outside for several days but it’s still strong. If anyone has any ideas, please comment.) Anyway, I’m challenging myself to keep up this practice. The cool thing about using the youtube series is that I don’t have to zip out into traffic afterwards and so I can keep my magical yoga glow. It helps on a grey day like today.

Beginners Yoga 101 with Dr. Melissa West

Namaste

Arrival at Entrance Island

Arrived at my new lightstation yesterday, aided by Monika, a charming Gabriola taxi driver, and a wonderful Lab Supervisor from the Gabriola Health Centre. When I found out my helicopter was delayed a couple of hours, she helped me pack all my gear into the health centre for safe keeping. This afforded me some time to take in the island trails. Arbutus trees! This is a tree we don't see much in the Lower Mainland--such a shame--it's curling red papery bark is so elegant. I forgot how much I like arbutus trees. Before she left at noon, she helped me carry my stuff back out to the heli-pad, and fortunately my chopper came soon after. We flew out to Nanaimo Airport to pick up more passengers so I was treated to a view of Gabriola and the lush farmlands around Nanaimo--some gorgeous horse farms there.

Entrance Island is built on a giant rock near the mouth of Departure Bay so ferries glide by regularly. There is a seal colony and several big old sea lions that lounge about on the rocks, as well as, eagles and gulls. When I looked out my window this morning, this is the first thing I saw:

He would doze like a big old dog until he heard or sensed something and then he'd raise his head and move it back and forth; this seemed to provoke an itch which he'd then scratch with his flipper.

Yesterday, we had a few showers and then were granted this beautiful rainbow. This will be my home for the next couple of months and I like it!

Burley's (Epic) Seaside Romp

During my convalescence we managed to sneak in a brief family holiday on Vancouver Island--I just love the Island. We stayed at a friend's beautiful country home near Royston and were able to walk a nearby beach every day. 

Burley, my daughter's dog, would like to invite you to view his Epic Seaside Adventure. He is a Golden Retriever + Blue Heeler + Border Collie cross, which has proven to be quite the interesting mix.

With my ribs almost healed, I'm preparing to head out again in a couple of days. I'll be stationed at Entrance Island Lightstation for the next few weeks. More to come.

PETRIFIED DRAGONS STALK VANCOUVER ISLAND

At a beach near Royston we find evidence of the Jurassic Era in BC--

Jack Hodgins Writing BC

I picked up a book by Jack Hodgins yesterday -- The Invention of the World --  and I am so impressed with his writing style. The man's a genius ... maestro of a gritty symphony ... the kind of writer that merges myth and reality by nailing truth and detail effortlessly ...  the kind of writer I aspire to be. I love it when I find a book like this. It's the kind of book you read out loud to yourself late into the night--in voices, in accents, in melodic whispers. And thank god, the man's prolific, cause when you find one book you like by a particular writer, you always crave more.

Frontier BC is jam-packed with colourful characters, real and imagined--who else would settle in a place thick with fog and trees and rocks and water, and not much else?--characters whose stories merged and intersected with the First Peoples and created this province. People came here searching for things: for utopia, or fast cash, for freedom, or land and power, or sometimes just plain love.  For example, meet an old woman who travels round Vancouver Island entering and winning nail-driving competitions:

"Madwoman Thomas was no less conspicuous than her rig. A tiny, round old woman with floating hair like a handful of white cloud, she kept her dainty feet in fur-trimmed rubbers and left her muscled arms exposed in sleeveless dresses all year round...She spent her time riding from place to place all over the island, standing up at the front of that donkey-pulled manure spreader while the rusted row of spreading-teeth turned constantly at the back end, stirring up nothing but air (14-15)".

Jack Hodgins taught writing at UVic until he retired and still occasionally gives writing workshops, but the thing about it is this: everything he's written teaches you something. All you really have to do is read.

Jack Hodgins Profile on Goodreads

Rumrunners & Pirates Ahoy

Ten years ago, I spent one summer travelling to Sooke, a pretty place in the southeast corner of Vancouver Island. I had decided to use it as a setting for a historical novel from the 1920’s. I’d read an old article in Raincoast Chronicles (Harbour Publishing, 1976) about a Canadian man named Bill Gillis who’d disappeared--likely been murdered--with his seventeen year old son, on their fishing boat, the Beryl G, and I was hooked (pun intended). It was one of those moments writers dream of ... intrigued by a flash that keeps on burnin'.

The Beryl G, empty and blood-splattered, was spotted by Chris Waters, the lighthouse keeper--of course there has to be a lighthouse keeper--of Stuart Island in the San Juans (American side). But the mens' bodies were never recovered.

I decided to weave these two tragic characters into my plot, along with some of the hows and whys of the time. I wrote the novel quite quickly and remember laughing hysterically through some of the scenes, as I read them back to a friend on the phone. Writer's euphoria, no doubt. And I remember receiving some favourable comments from a Vancouver publisher, but then, the manuscript got buried in a manilla envelope in my file drawer, and there it has remained. Until now. Perhaps, it’s being by the sea that’s awakened my curiosity, perhaps it’s working for the Coast Guard; perhaps it's just having the time to think. Whatever the reason, I’ve pulled out Rampage (working title) and am giving it another look. 

The Beryl G in Victoria Harbour 1924 (courtesy of KNOW BC)

The Coast Guard was busy in those days with rum-runners and pirates. On January 16th, 1920, the US Congress had passed the Volstead Act, prohibiting the sale of liquor across the United States. Fortunately for American drinkers, the very next year, the Canadian province of British Columbia revoked their prohibition laws. This made it legal to brew, buy, and sell liquor in BC. The liquor was run south by a swift fleet of Canadian yachts, schooners, and steamers, whose captains made fistfuls of cash. It was even legal for these Canadians to carry liquor across the border by boat, as long as they paid the $20/case export duty when they cleared customs, and as long as they weren’t hauling moonshine. Both Vancouver and Victoria had “rum rows” where these rumrunning ships were berthed in between runs. 

With all that liquor running down the West Coast, pirates soon got into the act. They'd target and overtake a vessel, deal with her crew, and steal her load. And this, unfortunately, is what happened to poor Captain Gillis and his son, Bill. 

Is there a novel in there? You bet.

--convalescing near Comox, BC