Enjoy the moment

It is June , or  with the rain and cold, possibly June-uary, and it is Sunday and it is the twenty-second and Mike and Janet arrive. Just like on schedule. They also arrive with sufficient food and beverage to care for the Argentine navy for a full fighting season. A new water line on the boat hull and a new notch in my belt will accommodate this little problem.

Monday AM and we are in hot pursuit of things that swim, excluding mermaids and the girls synchronized swim team, and as we have strong winds from the south-east we head north to the Work Channel. This makes for a somewhat smoother ride with a following sea. It is later in the day when we arrive at Trail Bay but there are a number of charter boats fishing the turn of the tide. We did note that although there were quite a number of these boats, there were not quite a number of them catching fish, but not t be outdone we too fished a great deal and caught not so many. Fortunately hunger and thirst overcame us and as the winds were still up, we hunkered down in Trail Bay for the night. When the sun is well up in the sky (if you could get a glimpse of the sun) we are back at work, fishing the shore, accompanied by still another cluster of charter boats. The difference this time is that although the other boats still appeared to be having limited luck and we had three in the bucket on the first tide. Rather than fish aimlessly until the next tide, we decided to drop anchor and have a little lunch. As we got ourselves settled, we noticed that most of the boats had left as well. No sooner had the girls prepared some tasty sandwiches and we made ourselves comfortable, when our solitude was broken by the sound of roaring engines along side our boat. This was accompanied by a major type wave as the high speed vessel of the fish Gestapo came abeam and requested to board our boat. Now I often wondered what would happen if one refused this request, but not wishing to be blown out of the water, or rammed or whatever it is that they might do, I readily complied with this request. Actually quite a nice young chappie, and as the ladies said “ he had nice dimples”. At any rate, he just wanted to see our licenses, and as we had actually had our catch marked in as we were supposed to, everything went quite well and we parted company on reasonably good terms.

Next AM we were alone in our fish pursuit and the weather reports were still not great. On the upside, the weather was supposed to get worse later in the day. With this in mind we decided to poke our nose out into Chatham Sound and make a decision at that time. As luck would have it, the water was not too cranky so we headed across Chatham to Dundas Islands. The water continued to “lay-down” and allowed us to quarter the waves and swells, for quite a pleasant crossing. Even Bonnie didn’t seem to notice the lumps in the water, as she and Janet discussed everything that was happening in “good old Dawson Creek”for most of the crossing. We set our prawn traps and shut it down for the day in a very secure moorage, locally known as “God’s Pocket”. More massive meals and good spirits and we are off to bed. One thing about these marathon eating binges is that with my increasingly rotund form, I can now rock myself to sleep by lying on my belly and letting the wave action propel me back and forth. Fishing is still nasty and we manage only a dinner fish and a good sized Ling cod. Back to God’s Pocket where we can listen to the rain thump on our roof. Oh yes, we did manage to get enough prawns to supplement the yearling cow that Mike tastefully prepared on the barbeque. Now for those of you who don’t know Mike, his idea of steaks for four, is to knock the hooves and horns off a fully grown grain fed beef, cut the remaining part into four equal sections and cook until medium rare. To eat one of these “puppies” is very nearly a career move, but I can assure you that it can be done. A new leisurely day, and the plan is to fish for a while and then cross back over Chatham and up into Tuck Inlet and a feed of fresh crab, prior to getting Mike and Janet back to Prince Rupert. First we once again pull the prawn trap, which once again was not so full as to make the pulling difficult, and then out into Chatham Sound to fish the east side of the Moffats. Now as logic would have it, this is the day for the fishing to pick up and we had scarcely dropped the hooks when we caught our first of five spring salmon. Next we managed to troll up a thirty pound halibut on Mike’s line. Certainly a pleasant change from the past several days. All this in two hours fishing. About this time I noticed that the water was starting to build and thought it prudent to get with it if we were crossing to Rupert. Each tick of the clock seemed to build the water a little more and after a rather short period of time I did a one-eighty and high tailed it back to God’s Pocket. Neither Janet nor Bonnie were enthused about a lumpy crossing and a Kermit the frog impression. It isn’t easy being green.

It seems that the plan of staying in the “pocket” was rather fortuitous as the winds gusted fifty, fifty-five most of the afternoon and a good part of the night and we soon had the company of other boaters in our safe-moorage spot.

The AM brought a change of wind direction and rippled water with low swells for our crossing. Perfect except for the fact that the sooner that we reach Prince Rupert, the sooner that we loose the company of some wonderful friends, whom we don’t get to see often enough. Enjoy the moment!!

New spots but no fish

Back in internet range and time for an update. Son Troy and his buddy Rick made a quick trip in our direction in hopes that all my spouting off about fish were not just more fish tales. The “tales” make thin soup. I am quite certain that had the weather been more co-operative, the fishing would have been much better, but we did manage to slay some of the finny critters. The winds kept us in a nice safe harbour (Brundidge) for the best part of one full day, but they still managed to go home with their limit of springs, but only one small halibut. Oh well, they will be bigger next time guys. As Rick was new to salmon fishing, we courteously let him catch the largest salmon and entitlement to the appropriate bragging rights. This was particularly gracious of Troy as it has been some time since he was fishing as well. Time just flew and the guys headed back to Woodinville — maybe just as well as both Troy and Rick are very accomplished when it comes to cooking, and I need gourmet meals every day like I need a good enema. Or maybe that is the only part of the gourmet feasting that I should have been having. At any rate we had a great time and certainly enjoyed the company and the culinary delights!

Had about a week before our good friends Mike and Jan Fraser join us from “good old Dawson Creek” and took advantage of the hospitality of our Sidney friends, Doug and Becky Trapp. Doug and Becky have spent many years in this area fishing and charter fishing, so are very familiar with all the little spots to hide out from rough water and the spots to sniff out the big fish. Can’t say enough good things in that they would take the time to show us some of their favorite spots as well as some “new to us” fishing spots. We spent several nights rafted up and sharing a libation or two and more gourmet cooking. Becky certainly knows her way around the galley. It seems that I am just magnetically drawn to people who prepare great food in an effort to make me fat. — too late, I beat them all to that. Doug not only shared fishing spots, but shared fishing pointers and I look forward to putting them into practice as I pursue the wily salmon. Now Becky quite enjoys hanging a hook into a halibut or two and told us about rafting with some friends of theirs in the little bay where we spent our first night. Apparently they and the friends, (well the ladies) had dropped a hook on the off chance of catching a halibut or two. Yes they did, an eighty pounder , and in twenty feet of water no less. As she was relating this story, she was rigging a line to set over the side for a repeat performance. As we all sharpened an eye with a liquid refreshment, there was some action on her line, but by the time she was able to grab the rod the line was broken and the “huge fish” gone. Time for heavier gear and the halibut rod is now over the side. No sooner were we back to our mind enhancing nectar and there is action on the new rod. Not only action but the heavy line is snapped before it can be retrieved. This is too much for my own fat self and as Becky is once again rigging her line, I drop one off our boat as well as we are obviously perched over a veritable cluster of huge flat-fish. You guessed it, we had barely sat down to our much needed libation, as by this time I was beginning to feel like a camel, when my line began to make some fishy type movements. Well I grab the rod and watch the line just peeling off the reel. I have visions of this monster type halibut and how many meals this beast will make, when a rather large seal surfaced and glared at me. Now I suspect that this was just a younger type seal trying to get some spiffy new body piercings, so I cleated my line and let him have my fine stylish hook. Now a sensible person would have called it quits by now, rather than donate more gear, but nobody ever accused me of being sensible, so I re-rigged and once again dropped a line. By this time we had managed to get the first drink down and managed a verbal re-play of the seal episode assisted by some “nectar of the Gods”, when once again Becky noticed movement on my line. Thinking that the seal was going to drown himself if he wore much more of this heavy hardware, we started to retrieve the line but this time it had a much different feel. You guessed it, a halibut, and fifty pounds of it to boot. And all of this in twenty feet of water. Just goes to show — ‘fish are where you find them”

Next day we are not having much luck as the salmon fishing has dropped right off. Even the charters are coming up short as the “springs” seem to vanish other than the occasional short period of time. Definitely not like last year, but that is fishing and so we went into Hunts Inlet to “drop the pick” and share some great company. No excitement like the previous evening. A new morning and actual sunshine. What could possibly happen to us next? Fishing is still slow and at slack tide we opted to anchor at a drop off and try for some more halibut. Skill obviously wins out as r’Andiamo landed two, Tawny Port — zero. As the winds were starting to build, we followed Doug and Becky into Welcome harbour. Now this is like going through a mine field when looking at the chart, but there is a a skinny little pathway to follow when you know the area. Sort of tight sphincter time on the first run but a piece of cake the next time around. What a great little cove and pretty much bullet proof for the weather. A short hike across a narrow strip of land and you are at a strip of fine gravel beach on Hecate Strait. That is the plan for the following day, and one more new experience.

New day and new sun — hard to believe two days in a row with actual sun light. Do you get the feeling that sunny days have been in short supply here this year? Anyway, we dinghy to shore and hike over to the Hecate side. Quite spectacular and if Bonnie stood on her tippy-toes, she could very nearly see . Walked the beach for a while, and just enjoyed the moment, but there are fish to be caught — or not! Threaded our way back through the mine field and then in hot pursuit of the elusive Pacific salmon. Still pretty slow, and yet again the charters are having tough luck. Sort of a bummer as this is how they make their living. Weather reports are talking gale-force winds so we have opted to slip back into Prince Rupert Harbour and the quiet of Pillsbury Cove. Doug and Becky are booked into the yacht club for Friday night and we are there on Saturday. A most enjoyable few days, at least certainly for us.

Mike and Jan arrive Sunday, and with them a new story or two.

Prince Rupert at last

Well we are at Prince Rupert, we have both phone and internet, and I can not come up with any good excuses for not updating our blog —- so here goes.

We left Ocean Falls and headed west towards Milbanke Sound, but rather than cross the sound, which can be somewhat snotty at times, we snuck up Reid Passage and on to Mathieson Channel, which was our intended destination at any rate. We tucked into Rescue Bay with the intention on continuing on the following AM. The weather kept nicely, and we stayed a couple of extra days and low and behold, there were more boat chores. Fancy that !. Oh well, it all has to be done I guess.

On to Kynoch Inlet, part of Fiordland Recreation Area. They are definitely fjord-like with steep granite walls dropping straight down to the water. A few trees have missed the loggers axe by clinging precariously to these rock faces. It is amazing how a cup full of questionable soil can support a full grown tree — but they do. The inlet was burdened with some high cloud cover, which prevented us from looking right up to the top, but maybe just as well as by the time I got all the folds in my neck smoothed out by looking upwards, I had a kink in my neck. Half a mountain is good enough. Back on the go as we hope to make Khutze Inlet for the night.

At the end of Mathieson Channel lies Mathieson Narrows. Now this causes the water to hurry up as it all has to get to where it is going at the same time as the rest of the water. If you are going with the current, you can gain mileage big time. The reverse holds true if you are going agin’ the current. We, however, arrived at slack, while the water just lies there while it tries to make up it’s mind what it wants to do. This does give the best ride. See how I look after Bonnie.

Had a small pod of Orcas accompany us through the Narrows and part way down Sheep Passage. The Orca pod was small, only three, but quite spectacular. A lot of leaping clear of the water accompanied by great splashing etc. Very entertaining.

I’m not certain if Sheep Passage was named for the big curly horned animal who likes to stand in the middle of the road at Banff and Jasper, or perhaps a Scotsman trundled his little furry favourites off to the wilds of BC. We were unable to spot either kind, so it is still a mystery. From Sheep Passage we enter Hiekish Narrows. Now those of you who listened to me whine last year, about the nasty log that snuck up upon us with the intention of doing damage to our propellers, this is the spot!! Having put up a valiant struggle in an effort to turn the log to pulp fodder, did create a very noticeable vibration. We did not want a repeat performance!

We made it through unscathed, and no small thanks to the white knuckles Bonnie presented to the helm cabinet. Into Graham Reach and on to Khutze Inlet. Tomorrow another day.

Caught a bit of the tide in our favour, and scooted along passed Butedale. Vicky, you will be happy to know that it is for sale in its entirety, and can be had for only a couple mil. Was going to stop and put an offer in on your behalf, but had to get out of the way of a tug and tow. Maybe on our way back down.

Managed to sneak across Wright Sound just ahead of the lumpy water, and started up Grenville Channel. Pulled into Lowe Inlet in bathroom weather. “Pissing” down rain with a “shitty” outlook for the next two-four hours. Slept the night away accompanied to the sound of buckets of water dumping down on our roof. Morning brought more rain and fog, but we are within sniffing distance of Prince Rupert. Started into Chatham Sound with a slight chop and low swells. Enough to grab Bonnie’s attention once again, but it did not worsen from there to PR. A happy Bonnie.

Speaking of Bonnie, I must mention that I mis-judged her interest in the gathering of sea food. I always knew that she enjoyed eating the stuff, but pulling a trap, or baiting a hook — no thanks. Now it seems that she has been less than pleased with my abilities of filling the deep freeze with prawns. Whilst we were in Ocean Falls, she took it upon herself to show me how the gathering of prawns was done. Now I must admit that she did much, much better than I, but I have come to the conclusion that it is the bait that makes the difference. Bonnie found that the best bait was cash, and that all one had to do was to present it to a commercial dude, on his prawn boat, and you had a quick catch. Not only that. But she found that if you added more “bait”, you could select the size that you wanted. I may try this out here, or may just toss some cash in the trap.

All for now, take care.
T

Ocean Falls

Another day in downtown Ocean Falls. This is our third, and is due to utter laziness, and not adverse weather. Left Fury Cove on a beauteous morning with flat water. We were accompanied up Fitz Hugh Sound by some whales who seemed oblivious to our presence, and were more than content to continue feeding. It is always a pleasant change to view some of the flora and fauna as opposed to logs and deadheads. Just so long as one is not dashed back to reality with an encounter with one of the aforementioned. As we progress northward, there are weather reports of winds building from the northwest. Nothing spectacular, but building all the same. In the “old days” a nor’wester. Now in times long past ,sea faring men were noted for their lack of conversation skills, this possibly as a result of not being heard above the sound of the wind screaming through the halyards, of maybe that they were just unsociable suckers at the best, and better off at sea. At any rate, this attitude resulted in many an abbreviation and rather than state that “the winds are building from the north-west” a “nor’wester” would cover the same territory. This also applied a so’easter or so’wester, but even ancient mariners drew the line at north and south as a we’wester only sounded as though they had a stammer. All this changed when someone determined that women aboard ships were no less unlucky than say shooting an Albatross, for example. Women being somewhat more able to vent their feelings verbally, in as many words, and for as long as the situation required, created a whole new aura on the ocean. In my own situation for example, if I have not explicitly followed instructions from the Admiral, will likely be reminded of this for some considerable period of time, and in as colorful expletives as the situations require. On the other hand, had my failure to follow instructions resulted in an unpleasant boat ride, the conversation could be short and terse, followed by long periods of silence. Go figure. It is also my understanding that BC Ferries is having an extensive study done in an effort to re-instate the policy of women being bad luck on boats.

It seems strange to pass Lama Passage and ply our way on towards Ocean Falls. Lama Passage leads towards Bella Bella and Shearwater, and has been the way that we have gone in the past. The fact that Ocean Falls has good docks, good power and abundant clean, clear water all at a reasonable price, may have some bearing on this choice. It seems that by the time we make it this far some laundry is in order and in Shearwater even the whites come out brown, to match the color of the water they are washed in. Now those who live in that area claim that this brown water is perfectly harmless, and even quite all right to drink. As most of the resident population has rather a brownish tinge, maybe as a result of the water, we choose not to take this chance.

Water is one thing in abundance at Ocean Falls, considering that it has an average rainfall of some 14.5 feet per year. Now put in it’s proper perspective, this would be equivalent to stacking three Bonnies end to end. That is quite a bit of water. However on the two days of summer the weather is spectacular and the scenery beautiful. Not to mention that the 40 full time residents are very friendly and helpful. It is hard to envision that this community once boasted a population in excess of 5000 people, and the largest hotel north of Seattle, with some 400 rooms. This was back in the times that pulp and paper was king, and money was no object. The 1970’s started the hard times for Ocean Falls, and a number of factors, both financial and political, brought about it’s eventual demise. Well so much for the history lesson, time to head north. More to follow.

T

To Fish or Not To Fish

A new day, and time to put the money where the mouth is, as it were. After convincing ourselves that there were fish to be had, to wily fishers such as ourselves, Bonnie and I backtracked down Johnstone Strait with Art and Janice, heading for Codero Channel and some open fishing area. Having awaited the incoming tide that we might extricate ourselves from the shore side of the dock at Port Neville, we now had the advantage of an incoming tide and hefty current down the strait. Quite a thrill at Race passage. Hair straight back and we are finally getting the fuel mileage that we would like. Never lasts as long as it should as we make our way to Bickley Bay. Too late in the day for the elusive finny creatures, but time to drop the crab trap and yet again over eat.

Up at the crack of noon, or there about, as we ply the waters with the most appealing of lures, and all the skill of the dedicated hunter. Nary a salmon to be had, but we did manage to get a pair of ling in the bucket, and Art and Janice did about the same. Now all we have to do is convince ourselves that it requires the same finesse to boat a bottom fish as it does to take a salmon. Doesn’t take a lot of convincing that they all eat very well. Add to this a trap load of crab and once again too many munchies.

A new day and more decisions. With the uncertainty of Queen Charlotte Strait ahead of us, the prudent mind says to get back pointed north, and after much procrastination and fond farewells that is exactly what we did. Timed our passage through Green rapids and Whirlpool Rapids, and found ourselves safely ensconced in Forward Harbour for the night. Back to Johnstone Strait on the morrow.

Poked our nose out into Sunderland Channel in the AM and noticed that it did indeed bounce rather nicely in an up and down motion. This as a result of incoming water down Johnstone, accompanied by significant winds. A couple of hours of this and we decided to tuck back into Port Neville and let the water settle down a bit. Like Yogi Bera would say “ déjà vu all over again”. Two days later and we are back in Port Neville. Sat around in the boat for a couple of hours, and the water began to flatten out nicely. Pointed north once again and away we went. Some things just get better as they get older, a single malt for one and this day for another. The water just kept getting flatter and even the sun reared its ugly head. What with the great water and the sunshine, even Bonnie was happy. As we neared Port McNeill and prior to crossing Queen Charlotte Strait we decided to top off our fuel tanks. Now normally we do this little duty at Port Hardy as the price of fuel tends to be somewhat more reasonable there. Not !! Would you believe abut 3 cents a litre less at Port McNeill. I believe that they all belong to a society of bandits and at least Jesse James wore a mask. However, thanks to Bonnie and here telephone, we did save that 3 cents a litre. Water still flat and the day yet fine, so north it is to yet another port. Port Alexander on Nigei Island. Now as all the other ports we have spoken of, had real live people, one might jump to the conclusion that there may be inhabitants here. Not so, but it is a great spot to drop the pick prior to crossing the open water of Queen Charlotte Strait and gains about 15 miles from leaving port Hardy.

A fine nights sleep and a six o’clock awakening to water with a mirror finish prompted us to weigh anchor and try the crossing. The report from West Sea Otter listed swells of one and a half metres, but calm winds, and the reports from both Pine and Egg Islands had light winds. Prefer a metre or less at West Sea Otter but what the hey. For the land lubbers amongst us, West Sea Otter in not a cute furry little animal placed on the water for our viewing pleasure, but an unmanned reporting device giving sea conditions in Queen Charlotte Strait. Made our way out Douglas Channel, taking some current on our beak, (the pointy part of the boat), along with some ups and downs of ocean swells. We are still a way from the Strait and already Bonnie is starting to clench her window sill. A quick taste of the open water convinced us that a smoother passage might be had later, and so, back to Port Alexander. Water dead calm, deceitful little devil. As we sat about enjoying the day, the reports kept getting better. WSO is now 1.2 metres, with Pine and Egg as before. Up with the anchor and back down Douglas Channel. Less bounce to the ounce on this pass and away we go. The closer we get to Pine Island the greater the roller coaster ride, until Bonnie started to make little whimpering sounds. Now I have been around long enough to interpret the signs, and I know that if mom ain’t happy, nobody’s happy. Back to Port Alexander. Now, had we turned off the ships radio, we might have spent the remainder of the day with a good book and sunshine, but oh no, we’re not that clever. It is now 3 o’clock and West Sea Otter is less than one mtere. Bonnie suggests that if we wait much later in the day, we would be making the crossing in the dark. That is not going to happen, so pull the pick and off we go. Suffice to say that Bonnie kept horizontal on the crossing, but in spite of the carnival ride we made it to Fury Bay unscathed, and in time for a little relaxation and then to bed.

A new day and a new sun. One could get used to this. Also no wind. A definite bonus when on the water. However, it is Sunday, a day of rest. I curled myself up on the chesterfield with a good book and the warmth of an early morning sun. Quite contented, like a fat old tom cat. I was very nearly to the point of purring when “she who decides” determined that the day of rest could include “a few chores”. It is too small to hide on a boat and too cold to swim to shore, so a few chores it was. Oh well, nothing so pressing in our schedule that a vegetative state can’t be post-poned. Tomorrow is another day and we will ply our way north once again. On to Ocean Falls. Will update from time to time. Care to all.

T

North to Alaska — well almost!!

Summertime and the livin’ is easy. Not. A mad scramble to finish off the must do things for our trip north. The Alaska thing is an "almost". It is more like an Alaska panhandle thing. If you stand on your tippy toes you can very nearly see Alaska across Dixon Entrance. It looks a lot like northwestern BC but they haven’t cut down most of their trees. But I am getting ahead of myself.

We made our Costco run for a few provisions. Mistake. Last year we took so many frozen items that there was no room in the freezer for fish. Swore that we would not do that again. Wrong. We must have thought that our boat was turning into an arc as it appears that we purchased two of everything. Again , no room for fish. We now have a couple of weeks to eat enough freezer food to make room for all the fine fish that we intend to catch. Costco graciously offered us the use of a Brinks truck that we might safely get our items back to the boat, but we declined.

Left Port Sidney noonish of Saturday the 17th, and poked our way to Nanaimo, timing Dodds Narrows for the flat. Dropped the pick along side Newcastle Island for the night. Next AM we pointed ourselves (and the boat) towards Campbell River. Now this is up the Strait of Georgia and Bonnie could tell a yarn or two about that little piece of water, but this trip was uneventful. Flat water and sunshine all the way. Twiddled our thumbs at Cape Mudge for an hour, waiting for the water to settle down a bit, before going into Campbell River. A lot of water tries to squeeze itself into a rather small channel, in its desperate attempt to head back to the Pacific, then changes its mind and reverses the process. Does this twice a day. Decisions, decisions, decisions. This passage is called Discovery Channel and carries you all the way to the other end of town. Campbell River that is. It then turns into Seymour Narrows. Now this nasty little piece of water can hurl itself through there at 16 knots on a big tide. No place for boats or people. Very prudent to wait for slack tide and current and thus avoid the whirlpools and other forms of cranky water. Now add to this, a lumping big stone parked in the middle of the channel, just below the surface. In the "old days" said stone used to delight in ripping the bottom off unsuspecting vessels, until man tunneled under the water and stuffed the hole with dynamite. In its day was the biggest non nuclear explosion and no more stone. Didn’t time this one too well, so overnighted in Gowland Harbour, across from Campbell River.

The morning of the 19th saw heavy cloud cover accompanied by frequent rains, but the trip through Seymour was perfect. Trundled our way up Johnstone Strait with a destination of Port Neville. We had made plans to meet our good friends Art and Janice there and not only that, but a fine meal was already prepared for our arrival. They had spent several days trying to catch the elusive fishy, but were not having much luck. After a libation or two, Art and I convinced ourselves that we were at least as smart as most fish and if indeed there were fish about, we would have them boated. Oh well, had a great time.

Will keep this posted with new and wonderful events as they transpire. Take care of yourselves.
T

Scare Canada ?

Okay I lied, — well not really a lie but sort of an unintentional little fib. I sort of inferred that the last entry would be the last entry, and here I am again. Had to tell you about the final bits of our journey. Up at 0600 in Bangkok so that we could make our flight to Hong Kong and then our connecting flight to Vancouver and Victoria. All went swimmingly well on our Cathay Pacific portion to Vancouver. They gave us hot food, new warm sockies for our tired feet, our choice of many movies and the did not lose our luggage. In fact, we flew with a number of airlines in Thailand, to a number of different airports, both large and small, and nobody lost our luggage and the flights were on time. Well guess what — remember my whining about our national carrier, Air Canada? You guessed it, but let me not get ahead of myself.

We arrived unscathed, at Vancouver International, at 11:30. Now this is about 1:30 in the morning of the next day to us, but we are back. The one minor glitch that we have is the next leg of our trip, the 20 minute flight to Victoria is scheduled for 21:30, or 9:30 at night. A rather long wait, after a long flight, but as Air Canada Jazz fly to Victoria nearly every hour so we hoped to bump our flight up a bit. Well we cleared luggage through customs, (all our luggage) without mishap, and hand delivered them to Air Canada. At this time, the agent kindly changed our departure time to the scheduled 2:00 flight. We removed the baggage tags which were installed in Bangkok and replaced them with genuine Air Canada tags, for the remaining 20 minute flight. On we went to our departure lounge to await our 2:00 flight. About 13:30, Air Canada made an announcement to the effect that there were some maintenance issues with our intended aircraft, and so the flight was canceled. The silly passengers would be shoe-horned onto the following flights, and this would be accomplished alphabetically. Our name should have been Aardvark rather than Roberts because when Bonnie checked for our new time, we were back to 9:30 at night. Other than feeling particularly sorry for ourselves, or trying to recover our luggage and make our way to the ferry, we were at a bit of a loss, so decided to await the results of the 3:00PM flight. Wellll, we didn’t make the 3:00 but Air Canada announced that things were going so well that they would probably have the backup cleared by the 4:00 or 4:30 flight. Now the 4:00 was delayed and the new departure time would be 4:10, then 4:20, then 4:30. In the meantime, they had apparently found another plane, and were going to toss it into the mix and really clear up the backlog. Now we have the delayed 4:00, the 4:30 and the extra plane all slated to depart at 4:00. Fortunately, Air Canada seem to dash about in constant confusion, as our 4:30 flight didn’t leave until 5:15. We did make it to Victoria unscathed, and just when I was beginning to feel less sorry for myself, I tried to find our luggage. Wrong, — it ain’t gonna happen. It has magically disappeared in a 20 minute flight. The lost luggage ladies, who were actually quite pleasant, assured me that our luggage would indeed show up on one of the subsequent flights. The 9:30 PM flight being the final one. After trying to check on our luggage via phone, and finding out that we were talking to a lady in India, who did not yet have it listed into the system, we drove back to the airport. We were there but our luggage still wasn’t, and the next flight was the last flight, the 9:30, which was now arriving at 11:30. Well the end result was we did get our luggage at 11:30. All is well that ends well. It seems that when we got our new departure time in Vancouver our luggage was re tagged with a 21:30 flight, so it patiently sat in Vancouver, waiting for its flight, which was late anyway. All this now clocked up to about 31 hour on the go. Need some Rip Van Winkle time.

Oh well, the vacation still was great.

Time in a bottle

Well this is it. The sand in our hour glass is all at the bottom. It is time to go home. Today we fly from Koh Samui to Bangkok, tomorrow Cathay Pacific takes us back to Vancouver via Hong Kong. Maybe it is just an age thing, but time has really dashed by. Would we do this again?? — Oh ya! Will we do this again ? You bet!

We saw a lot of really interesting places and met some very nice people. Add to this, our constant search for some bad Thai food, which we were unable to find. I know that it must be out there, but we couldn’t find any. We also tried to find a mediocre massage. Not. They don’t have them here, and regardless of how hard they poke, pound and twist, you always feel great at the end. But all good things must come to an end, and this is it. Time to get back to the real world, as we know it.

A wise friend once explained to me that the reason a boating season is only five months long, is because it takes seven months of work to get ready for the next boating season. That is where we are at. We now have a couple of months to get that seven months preparation accomplished. Then it will be time for our next adventure.

Till then, enjoy each day, and take care of yourselves…….
T

No mind and Idle time

The question is how do you know if you are relaxing if you haven’t done anything to begin with? I may put that question to Johnnie B, when next we get together. It isn’t as easy as it might appear you know, arise in the early part of the day and eat, relax in the sun then eat, relax some more and probably eat, then recuperate from this strenuous ordeal with a good sleep — repeat as required.

The relaxing in the sun time has given me the opportunity to observe my surroundings in great detail, and one of the conclusions that I have drawn is that somewhere in the wilds of Thailand is a great concrete forest. In our travels to some of the more remote regions, I have tried to spot this anomaly, but to no avail. Now the smaller, immature trees are cut and used as fence post, while the more mature growth are used as power poles. I use the term “power poles” quite loosely as it seems that everything gets strung on them. Telephone, 220 AC power, internet, cable tv and, I suspect, laundry on Tuesdays, all share the same poles. This results in a hodge-podge of tangled wires hanging haphazardly at will, much like a poorly engineered bird’s nest. It is no doubt done to code, it is just that the code is virtually nonexistent. At any rate, every pole in Thailand appears to be of concrete, which no doubt lasts very well, but also saves the teak for touristy items and furniture. Now if I could magically collapse some of the furniture into a small package, I would be quite willing to fill my suitcase and kiss my clothes good-bye. This would, of course, be only for the trip home.

Another construction oddity which I have noticed is the scaffolding. With all the construction going on, it seems that every other building is covered in scaffolding. The odd thing is that most of this scaffolding is made up of bamboo poles lashed together with rope. Scurrying about this structure are many many workers doing whatever. This is all done without benefit of guard rails, hard hats, hard toed boots or safety harness. Wouldn’t WCB (workers compensation board) have a heyday. They couldn’t write out fines fast enough. With the scaffolding, I have heard that the workers prefer the bamboo as you can hear it give away prior to it actually collapsing. I did actually see bamboo scaffolding going right to the top of a 15 story building in Hong Kong. I am a little uncertain that I could scramble my way to safety if it started to crack and snap. Then again, if I was on it, it would be entitled to crack and snap.

Bonnie has now reduced her time for general shopping, (such restraint and intestinal fortitude) and started to hang out around the numerous knock-off art galleries. Not Rembrandt, mind you, but some good contemporaries and some abstracts. In some cases, we should have stuck with the elephant paintings in Chiang Mai. At least you could tell what it was that the elephants were painting. The really amazing thing is that they were painting with their noses. Mind you, if you noticed how cumbersome the limbs of an elephant are, and that fingers are pretty much non-existent, it is probably easier to hold that itty-bitty brush with your nose. Did manage to get some artwork that we enjoyed, and that will also remind us of our time here.

Nuff for now — yet still more to follow
T

Krabi, a place, not a disposition

Up before breakfast and off to Phuket town. Going to catch the local ferry to Phi Phi island, then another ferry to Koh Lanta. Now Koh Lanta is pretty laid back for the most part. Sort of a back-packers paradise if you are of this generation, or a hippie hide-a-way if you were never able to let go of the sixties. Both groups are there. This would rather narrow the potential accommodation somewhat, — unless you have Chad’s Angela as your booking agent. She managed to get us rooms at the Lantham Resort, and what rooms they were. Whole resort is built on the side of a mountain so the views are spectacular, but one has to get up and down from these rooms. The getting down part is quite easy as gravity tends to assist, but the up part is a little more trying. Now for those folks not in the peak physical condition of our hardy little group, the resort would move you in both directions in their own little tuk-tuks, but for those of us in top form, a vertical stroll was in the offing. When the sound of me gasping for air got too noisy, I would casually grab hold of something and gaze over the landscape as if enjoying the view. This bluff may have worked, other than I did the same performance at night when you couldn’t see a thing. I’m certain that it was the sheer magnitude of the undertaking and not my physical condition that required this procedure. Laid back and relaxed for a few days, well except for Bonnie, who would awaken to some church group, who would sing at all weird hours of the day. Actually was a mosque, and they were calling the faithful to prayer. I guess Bonnie missed out, and she never did get a burkah. Off by car to Krabi.

Another ferry crossing and a highway jaunt would take us to a Sheraton Resort outside of Krabi. Another Angela arrangement. Good work Angie!! Two thumbs up on the fancy digs. I may start traveling with you, and leave Granny to baby sit. On our road trip portion of our travel, we stopped so that I could admire a rather impressive snake skin. I had serious thoughts of packing it into my suitcase, or better yet, Bonnie’s, and bringing it home, but the snake was still using it and seemed cranky enough as it was. Could be how they named the area Krabi. At any rate, he seemed particularly put out that traffic would not let him cross the road. That or the fact that he had no legs and had to spend his entire life dragging his belly in the dirt. I’ve only been doing that for a few years and it ticks me off at times. It turns out that it was a King Cobra, about 15 feet long. The best I could do was take his picture, but even then I couldn’t get him to smile.

Great rooms, swimming pools, pool bars and restaurants — what a regimented life we lead. Interrupted our busy schedule to take a “long-tail” to Railay beach. Really laid back there but quite scenic. Some of the wildest rock formations we have encountered. Great, vertical snaggle-toothed limestone rock formations forming sort of mountains on the land, and islands in the surrounding water. It is like everything in between was made of soft material and over time, washed away. A very popular spot for rock climbers, and I lived vicariously through their efforts. I do much the same thing with bungy jumping.

Can’t believe that these past 10 days have disappeared so quickly, but here it is time for Troy and Chad to head back. We had truly a wonderful, memorable time, and it seems like they just arrived. Can’t say enough good things about their wives and families as well, to have encouraged them join us here. It is all something that we soon won’t forget.Troy and Chad will catch a plane to Bangkok, and we will catch one to Koh Samui. That will be another story. Take care to all.

T