If my friend Pat weren’t a ginger, I would be incredibly jealous of his total genetic luck-out. Pat’s mother inherited shares in Kildare Estates (the same idea as King Edward Bay Estates) which is a sprawling compound on Bowyer Island and his father inherited a cabin on Mayne just a half-hour walk from “town”. Last time we were on Bowyer (the same four – the dream team – which we actually refer to as the Cream Team… I don’t remember why), sitting on Pat’s cabin’s south-facing porch we were blown away when a bald eagle struck in the water just in front of us. He didn’t catch anything, but he circled low above us for a few minutes before alighting on a cedar next to us.
This week’s trip was even more magical. We spent three days drinking beer and exploring (have no fear – we took frequent water & sunscreen stops. Thirty is the new fifteen). What we found was a Japanese garden – memorial to the massive Japanese population deported during the second world war – that was over an acre and impeccably manicured, wit a domed island surrounded by lily pads upon which chickadees would walk, one foot in front of the other instead of their usual little hop.
In the afternoon we noticed, from one of the enormous picture picture windows overlooking the scorched front yard, a large grey rabbit. He was grazing on the clover that sprung up amongst the delicate, wiry dandelions. When we arrived home that evening the rabbit had returned (or was still there) and as we watched him feast over our glutton-sized bowl of “Smartfood” popcorn we noticed a willowy juvenile blacktail deer amble up to the yard. You’ll never believe it – as soon as the bunny noticed the deer, he hopped across the garden to munch next to (we can’t help it) Bambi!
The next evening, lo and behold, Bambi returned and Thumper sprang from behind the house to feast next to his buddy!
The next day we were treated to a fly-by from a great blue heron, a red-tailed hawk, a “turkey vulture” (I don’t know what it is actually called – it had was large and dark, with a white speculum), and a symphony from the ravens which, mercifully, didn’t begin until after we’d gotten up.
My tenth-grade science teacher told us that negative ions effect the brain in such a way as to result in a positive mood. This is the idea behind those salt lamps, which mimic saline waves crashing on the shore. I absolutely believe it. I can’t help but marvel at the beauty of british Columbia whenever I’m in any proximity to the sea. I don’t think it’s just because I’m on vacation – the bliss that is islands almost gets irritating because it’s so distracting; it’s all I can do to keep from pitching a tent and lotus-eating for the rest of my days.
On wednesday Shane and I rose early to drive to the Springwater, Mayne’s seaside restaurant, which is endowed with wireless internet which allowed me to register for my classes for this upcoming autumn. While we were there Shane and I treated ourselves to butter-drenched pierogies and superbly-breaded fish ‘n chips ‘n onion rings. Superb.
After a leisurely pause at Galiano, our ferry was noticeably slowing: we were watching for a pod of orcas. And we found them. Just a kilometre off the starboard bow the killer whales flipped and flopped about a little orange zodiac, performing every stunt imaginable. I think they were trying to get a look at the whale-watchers, who were probably soaking from equal parts seawater and urine (on account o’ they’re so excited about the whales).
I’m still getting goosebumps whenever I think about this. Although I disagree with putting it on a license plate, this really is the best place on Earth.
