Greenburn Lake

North and South Pender combined may only be 36.6 sq. kilometres – but trust me – lots of attractions are crammed into these compact islands.

Start with three marinas, one marine park, three public docks, and abundant bays and nooks for daytime anchoring. Then add accessible hiking opportunities; nearby campsites if your cockpit is spilling over with summer guests; and grocery, liquor and galleries all within a short walk of your moorage or anchorage. Lastly, mix in historical buildings, several federal park reserves, beautiful beaches, and ancient First Nations’ sites, and you’ve got an enticing cruising destination.

Many skippers arrive at the Penders by way of Active or Porlier Pass and head to Otter Bay. We frequently anchor overnight here just beyond the ferry dock, putting up with ferry wash in order to dinghy ashore at nearby Roesland, part of the Gulf Islands National Park Reserve. This historic site was originally homesteaded by the Roes, later purchased by the Davidsons, and flourished as a resort for over 70 years. The resort closed in 1991 but several of the original cabins and buildings are still standing. The Roes’ home was restored into a great little museum in 2005 and is well worth a visit on summer weekends. A stroll over the little bridge winds along arbutus and chocolate lilies in season, culminating in scenic lookouts and benches.

Sometimes, when we’re feeling energetic, we’ll hike from Roseland up to Roe Lake, and then slip our way down to Shingle Bay, returning on the same route. Tack on an hour for this worthwhile trek and you’ll feel no guilt treating yourself to a later ice cream cone at The Stand!

Otter Bay Marina, concealed behind its bank of colorful flags, is tucked into Hayashi Cove, once the site of Matsuyama Company, a flourishing saltery, packing and shipping herring to Asia before its property was confiscated from Japanese owners in 1942. It continued to operate until it burnt down 14 years later. Transient moorage is available here, with kayak rentals, a small gift shop and restaurant, and a swimming pool. A short distance away is the nine-hole golf course, with its clubhouse featuring excellent value meals and specials. A stroll in the other direction takes you to the ferry dock and The Stand, Penders’ popular little pocket takeout, for that promised ice cream.

Now we exit Otter Bay and head south in Swanson Channel, passing Shingle Bay and its old pilings, all that remain of what used to be a busy, odiferous dogfish and herring reduction plant seasonally employing fifteen to twenty men. Built in 1926, it burnt down in 1958. A small community park lies at the head of the shallow bay. Temporary anchorage here is open to north westerlies and ferry swells, but don’t venture too close past the old pilings, as the bay is very shallow.

Thieves Bay

Nearby Thieves Bay, a private marina for local residents and home of the Pender Islands’ Yacht Club, is marked by an indefatigable rock breakwater. This is a whale viewing area par excellence. The swirling currents bring Orcas close in, in search of salmon. When the pinks are running, these waters bristle with boats and fishing rods as well.

Rounding this point, we’ll be in Bedwell Harbour in an hour or so, depending on the tides and winds. Bedwell is named after Edward Parker Bedwell, the second master of the Plumper. Overnight choices abound here. Depending on our mood and budget, we anchor in the bay off Medicine Beach, tie up at Poets Cove Marina, or snaffle a mooring buoy at nearby 34-hectare Beaumont Marine Park. There’s no dinghy dock but we’ve got a marine host dock, picnic tables, outhouses, a beautiful beach, and a 5-star hiking opportunity. The 40-minute energetic hike along the canal is a real bonus, and if we’re in the mood to really sweat, we carry on for another 30 minutes past the Mt. Norman turnoff to a panoramic viewpoint of the islands. Or, we head downhill to the canal bridge. That trip takes only ten minutes, and we enjoy watching the boating traffic churning under the one-lane bridge before we cross over to check out the cairn on the far side. Excavations here in 1957 resulted in it being designated as a provincial heritage site, and a later Simon Fraser University archeological dig uncovered thousands of artifacts. After this, there’s usually time to cross back over and wander down to Mortimer Spit, the locals’ favourite beach.

Other interesting walks can be accessed from Poets Cove Marina. The stroll along Gowlland Point Road to the most southerly tip of the Penders is a level 3.7 kilometers and culminates in a public beach and great views of Mt. Baker. An added bonus is the side trail to Brooks Point, a grassy headland acquired by Penderites in 2001. Again, if we’re up for it, we take the steep road by the fire hall, up to Greenburn Lake. It’s well marked, but you can ask about the trails at the marina.

Curious about the writing on the cliff adjacent to the marina docks, we were told that it dates back to 1905 when the crew of the Royal Navy survey vessel, HMS Egeria, decided to immortalize themselves. Another Poets Cove attraction is the tree standing between the new hotel and the beach; it’s reputed to be haunted. See if you can find the oarlocks buried in the tree trunk, and then see if you can find someone from the resort to tell you how they got there. Brrrr. Creepy.

Poets Cove is where we tie up when we want to pamper ourselves. A full service spa with steam room and a hot tub near the ‘waterfalls’ provides external bliss, while the 5-star restaurant, Aurora, takes care of the interior. The downstairs lounge serves casual meals, and the adjacent complex offers a coffee shop, a swimming pool, showers, and a jacuzzi for marina guests.

From Bedwell, power boaters often take a short cut through the narrow canal. Take it slow; locals are concerned about wakes eroding the banks. This route is a scenic short cut to Port Browning, but with a 28′ clearance under the bridge, sailors like us need to sail eastward, past Camp Bay and between Teece Point and Blunden Islet. This is a good spot to look for birds, dolphins, and even killer whales, which are drawn by the rich feeding grounds around this area.

We find Port Browning provides good holding ground, although somewhat exposed to winds and seas from the southeast. Sometimes we’ve been lucky and found space in the public wharf’s 50-metre dock space. Port Browning marina is the other option. (See sidebar.) This is the place to be when my galley needs restocking, I want to enjoy some fresh baking, or I feel like checking out shops at the ever-expanding Driftwood Mall. There’s a popular new café, Fish on Pender, that’s been buzzing since it opened last summer.

Hamilton Beach at Port Browning is where the Polar Bear Swim is held every New Year’s Day, and it’s also the starting point for the popular Round-the-Penders yacht race every August. The marina also features camping in the orchard, a swimming pool, a lively pub, and a restaurant.

Leaving Port Browning, we round Razor Point and continue northwest down Plumper Sound to our favourite ‘shore leave’ spot. There are ninety metres of public moorage at the Hope Bay wharf at the west entrance into Hope Bay. It’s open to weather from the east, but boats can sometimes slip into the back of the T- shaped float for more protection. The mooring buoys that the friendly folk at Hope Bay have recently provided for visiting boats are the best option, if you have a tender. Beyond the docks, the bay almost drains at minus tide.

Tragically gutted by fire in 1998, the heritage Hope Bay store, originally built in 1912, hunkered in ruins for some time before its happy rescue by a group of 27 Penderites. Since 2005, visitors now have a choice of many amenities: a café hanging over the water, a lush gallery, a terrific goldsmith shop, a stylish home furnishing boutique, and many other outlets.

Once down Plumper Sound and around Stanley Point, we view Port Washington’s public docks, 80 meters of dock space in Grimmer Bay. Named after the first postmaster, Washington Grimmer, Port Washington is another good temporary stop. Check out the Penders’ other heritage store beside the dock. Built in 1910, this building awaits plans to bring it once more to life. There used to be terrific rivalry between Hope Bay and Port Washington, as each location strove to be the islands’ hub. At the moment, Hope Bay is winning. There are no amenities here, but boaters can walk a short distance to view the Old Orchard Farm on the left, Grimmer’s original residence, and to buy heritage fruit from the honour box, in season.

Of course in the right conditions you can easily circumnavigate the Penders in a day, but with all this to do and see, why would you want to?

Poets Cove

Sidebar:
Marinas galore.
• Otter Bay Marina. 250-639-3579, www.otterbaymarina.ca
Recent dock and power upgrades. In season staff usually provides rides to the golf course and Driftwood Mall. Currents, the recent development here, is quarter share cottage ownership.

• Poets Cove Marina and Resort, 250-629-2100 or 1-888-512-7638, is home to the Penders’ only marine gas dock, the Canada Customs, and a quarter share ownership resort. Operating for fifty years as Bedwell Harbour Resort, Poets Cove offers transient moorage year around. www.poetscove.com.

• Port Browning Marina, 250-629-3493.
www.portbrowning.com/ Pool, camping, pub and restaurant.

One island or two?
For thousands of years they were one island, joined by an isthmus the Coast Salish called “helisen” (lying between). In 1902, a canal was dug to allow the ferry, Iroquois, a quicker and safer transit from Hope Bay to Sidney on its weekly sailing. The canal cut 9 miles off the route and made the trip safer, although in an ironic twist of fate, the Iroquois foundered off Sidney on April 10, 1911, with considerable loss of life. In 1955, the present one lane bridge was built to connect the two islands.

What’s in a Name?
The Pender Islands were named after Daniel Pender, who surveyed the islands in 1857. His vessel, the HMS Plumper, gave its name to the body of water between the Penders and Saturna Island.

Other websites on the Penders
• www.penderislandchamber.com
• http://www.penderisland.info/

Divers will remember Portland Island for another reason. The derelict freighter, G.B. Church, was scuttled off its northeast shore in 1991, becoming B.C.’s first artificial reef. Marked by a fixed, white, permanent buoy, the wreck is popular with scuba drivers and marine life alike.

Flora and Fauna
We can recall startling herds of shaggy, spooked feral sheep on our early island visits in the 70s, but a decade later, these remnants of early settler life were evicted. Now we’re more likely to see Black tail deer, raccoons, river otter, and minks. Birds commonly spotted include great blue herons, oystercatchers, red tailed hawks, bald eagles and turkey vultures. On our last visit in July, we were also delighted to spy on a family of ospreys.

If camping or picnicking be sure to keep an ‘eagle eye’ on your food. The coons, which have multiplied considerably, are now very adept at pillage and plunder.

The flora, much of which has recovered since the sheep left, is typical of Southern Gulf Island vegetation. The copious salal crowds much of the paths, along with sword fern and wild Oregon grape shrubs, while yellow cacti and Rocky Mountain Juniper thrive in the sun soaked rocky outcrops. Garry Oaks and arbutus twist on the coastal sections, while maples, alders, and Douglas fir thrive inland. Developed early as an agricultural island, Portland also boasts a variety of fruit trees, over a century old.

Unfortunately for campers and kayakers, there is no longer any water supply. Unfortunately, the policy of Parks Canada seems to be to cap the wells that we have always utilized here and at Beaumont on Pender Island, so you must now haul in your own water supply.

History
Named by Captain G.H. Richards of the HMS Plumper in 1859, Portland Island bears the name of the HMS Portland, a flagship of Rear Admiral Fairfax Moresby.

The First Nation middens here date occupancy back some three thousand years. Much later, the island fell into the hands of the Hudson Bay Company, who eventually in 1859 gave the island to a group of Hawaiians (Kanakas) who had left Hawaii to work for the Hudson Bay Company, largely acting as interpreters between coastal natives and the English speaking fur traders. They stayed and farmed the land until 1907; the orchards, which still bear fruit, were planted by these hardy people.

Twenty years later, the island’s new owner arrived, one Major General Frank ‘One Arm’ Sutton, who supposedly bought the island with funds he amassed while gambling on racehorses in China. His exorbitant dreams were to raise and train thoroughbreds here, as well as to build a hotel and summer cottages, and even to create a golf course. This eccentric’s grand plan was nipped in the bud by the 1929 stock market crash and the resulting demise of his funds. The only trace of these great dreams now is the Parks Canada sign in the overgrown fields where the barn used to be. You will find the trail off the main Princess Bay-Royal Cove track. If the path is barricaded, you can still go around it. (See sidebar.)

In 1958, the island was gifted by the B.C. government to Princess Margaret during one of her royal visits. As was the expectation, she gave the island back in 1967, and it then became known as Princess Margaret Island. When the Federal Government incorporated the island into its Gulf Islands National Park Reserve in 2003, its name reverted to Portland.

Swimming
For the intrepid, cold water swimming is possible in many of the bays and can be very pleasant on a hot day. I like to take the shoreline trail on the south side, where several tiny bays offer shelter and privacy for morning dips, and the water seems somewhat warmer. A short trail along here also leads to a lonely little picnic table.

Hiking
Many boaters like to kick back and just enjoy the natural ambience of the bay combined with their comforts on board, but we always enjoy stretching our legs after a long day on our little sailboat. We’re frequently amazed to discover that even when the bay is crammed with boats, the trails and beaches are often empty. Here are some of the treks you can take:

• If you only have a few hours, or have children, take the trail from Princess Cove over to the Shell Beach campsite. It’s about a half hour walk, 1.4 km. Everyone can enjoy the beach, exploring the rock pools, and beachcombing. There are picnic tables under the trees, a toilet, and a canopy of cherry trees. From here, you can carry on westward along the island perimeter walk, or go as far as Kanaka Bluff, and then take the path back to the cross island trail to complete a circular route back to Princess Bay. A youth crew put through many of these trails in 1980.
• The cross-island trail from Princess Bay through to Royal Cove and on to Arbutus Point is also a must. It’s 2.3 level kilometres, partially on boardwalk. You’ll pass the sign to Kanaka Bluffs en route, you can take the short path on the left to read about Major General Sutton and his horses, and you’ll discover more fruit trees in the meadow, fighting with the roses for the sunshine. Be sure to check out Royal Cove before heading to Arbutus Point. The Point is beloved of kayakers, and for good reason. It’s one of the most beautiful beaches and campsites imaginable.
• Alternatively, there’s a trail to Arbutus Point that goes along the shoreline from Princess Bay, past the Pellow Islets, undulating along the shore and revealing several lovely beaches en route, the places where I love to swim. It’s a hillier trail but we rarely meet anyone on it. The distance is about the same.
• It’s also possible to hike around the entire island if you have the stamina and the time. Parks Canada has recently added plenty of new signs. The perimeter trail is approximately 10 kilometres and shouldn’t be rushed. Remember your water.

Anchorage

• Royal Cove

Located on the northwest side, the narrow cove is sheltered from all winds, but is subject to punishing ferry wakes from ferry traffic in Satellite Channel, and boats will probably require stern tying due to limited anchorage. The cove is sheltered by private Chads Island, but plan your cooking to be between ferries. A dinghy dock that dries out at low tide, a toilet, and an information sign are also located here, and Arbutus Point is only a half a kilometre away on a good trail. Enter the Cove from the north as a reef jutting out from Chad Island impedes almost the entire passage south when exiting the cove.

• Princess Bay (once known as Tortoise Bay)

The favoured anchorage is on the southeast side. It’s more expansive and with far less ferry wake. The Tortoise Islets also provide some protection from the seas. There’s a dinghy dock here as well as a dock for the host boats from Victoria Yacht club, which provide information for visiting boaters in the summer months. The campground is at the head of the bay, with picnic tables, a composting toilet, and a passable beach. Don’t go too close in to anchor. The beach shallows quite a long way out and there’s a small submerged wreck visible at low tide as well. We draw 4.5’ on our sailboat, so never creep in past the park host dock, and have always found secure anchorage here in the muddy bottom.

Because the bay is open to south easterlies, only plan on an overnight stay in fair weather conditions. We’ve occasionally had sleepless nights here because we didn’t check. The best way to enter is between the last of the Tortoise Islets and the larger unnamed island with small cabin on it. You’ll have 8 meters under you at chart datum. Although knowledgeable mariners also use the southerly entrance between Hood Island and Tortoise Inlets, we never do. If you’re going to, only attempt it above mid tide.

Temporary Anchorage
Dropping the hook in front of Shell Beach is very tempting. You’ll get some shelter from Brackman Island. (No trespassing on it, however; it’s a nature preserve.)
It’s very close to a lot of ferry wakes, so time your coming and going ashore accordingly. This definitely is only temporary anchorage.

There are other short stay anchorage possibilities but many shoals and reefs, especially on the east and northeast sides, make it a tricky business. Use a large-scale chart, #3475.

Portland Island is one of those destinations you always want to come back to.

Sidebar:
If you’re a regular visitor to Portland Island, you may be in for a surprise this year. Parks Canada has been busy. In addition to replanked boardwalks, and new signage everywhere, a storage shed is under construction near the Princess Bay crossroads, and yellow tape now surrounds the old orchard. Apparently this is to protect the heritage trees. Camping in the orchard is no longer permitted. You’re right if you think the orchard looks different. All of the surrounding wild roses and blackberry bushes have been removed.

A ‘tent city’ had also settled into the Princess Bay campsite during our July visit. Apparently, the University of Victoria and Parks Canada are two years into an arrangement whereby anthropology students and their instructors undertake archeological field studies through the summer. Seven tents clustered about the large ‘mess hall’ when we were there, accommodating around a dozen people.

Visiting boaters and kayakers will also find a smaller version at Arbutus Point, where students from the universities of Victoria and Western Ontario are encamped as they study the habits of birds and mammals. The reason for the barricade across the trail to the old barn site and informational sign mentioned earlier, was because these students, some of whom had been here since March, were studying song sparrows in the adjoining meadows. Electrical fencing had been strung along the area to keep out minks and raccoons, but they assured me, not two legged visitors.

The Global Forest by Diana Beresford-Kroeger

Publisher: Viking
Price: $32.50 hardcover
ISBN: 978-067-002174-1
Page count: 192 pp.
Size: 5 ½  x 8 ½
Released: May

You could call them essays, or you could call them refrains, as this Irish born author does. In the introduction to her forty mini chapters on a sylvan theme, she recalls the traditional visits of the storyteller, and the way in which this ‘living memory bank of his race’, broached his subject. What he did orally, she emulates in writing. It’s an effective format when presenting pithy and sometimes radical conclusions.

Much of the information in these ‘refrains’ may be worth remembering. For example, if a rattlesnake bites you, it might be handy to know that the Coneflower, often growing nearby, is the antidote to the venom of eight different species of rattler. Or that Black Walnut may be able to protect against diabetes, and that green walnut contains biochemicals that may help protect against childhood leukemia. The self-proclaimed ‘renegade scientist’ combines Western medicine and botany with aboriginal healing. Science has yet to put the stamp of approval on much of her work, however, as very few studies have been undertaken.

A Canadian botanist, researcher, and lecturer specializing in the beneficial properties of trees, and the author of two previous publications: Arboretum America and A Garden for Life, Beresford-Kroeger lives on her 160-acre Ontario Eden. It may well be the first bioplan; the growing of indigenous trees is The Global Forest’s call to action.

The interesting details and the tone of optimism make this more than just another book on impeding ecological disaster. By drawing on mythology and spirituality, she broadens the book’s scope while reminding us that nature knows best.

Nuggets like the fact that there are 14,000 lichens in the world and that some like to live in skulls, are interesting enough. Do we need the personification? Ornithologist Stuchbury, author of The Bird Detective, has been successful in making a complicated study accessible to all, through humanizing birds with humor, and mixing personal observations with statistics, but I find the style forced in The Global Forest, partially because it’s harder to visualize mosses masturbating, and lichens practicing bigamy, and partially because there’s just too much of it. There’s a danger of trivializing the seriousness of the content, and diluting the message.

BC Bookworld Review – In the Fabled East, Adam Lewis Schroeder (Douglas & McIntyre, $29.95)

Review by Cherie Thiessen

Myth and Mayhem

It’s the subject of many a myth and story – the search for eternal life and Shangri La. Sure, it’s hackneyed, but it still sucks us in, especially in the hands of a writer like Schroeder, and especially when under the cover of an historical fiction. It’s a tricky genre. At its best, historical fiction entertains while it enlightens. It needs that perfect balance: if it tips toward fiction, history can be upstaged; if it tips toward history, facts can smother fiction.

Telling the story through three narrators is another balancing act. What happens if we want to stay with the first narrator, Pierre Lazarie, a Sorbonne graduate who upon receiving his Baccalaureate in Oriental Studies, has journeyed to Saigon to take up a clerical position? He is, after all, pretty interesting, especially when paired with his acerbic, cynical counterpart, Henri LeDallie. It’s hard to get enough of that witty repartée, especially when it reveals so much about character, and bounces the plot along so entertainingly. It’s 1936, and life for the Vietnamese under the French, is no picnic.

However, the hauntingly beautiful, Parisienne, Adélie, who begins her story much earlier in 1886, soon assuages our frustration at being yanked away. She has the most amazing bad luck: deaths, sudden penury and early widowhood, and then – her own illness. Ultimately, she leaves her mother-in-law and her 9-year old son in search of the Fountain, determined to cheat death and return, to see her son grow up.

Adélie’s son, Captain Emmanuel (Manu) Tremier, now in his 30s, is the third narrator, and while he does not take centre stage until late in the novel, he makes a brief appearance soon after Lazarie’s arrival in Saigon to provide the motivation for the young clerk’s quest. In doing so, he also nicely ties all three narrators together. He’s in Saigon briefly before joining his new battalion, and has asked the Lazarie’s new employer, the Immigration Department of the Colony of Cochin-China, for assistance in finding his mother. The captain pulls out an old photo of her. One look, and Lazarie is in love. He will find her. It matters not that she would now be 56, if in fact she were still alive at all, which is highly doubtful. When she left, she was in the final stages of tuberculosis.

In true Heart of Darkness style, the reluctant LeDallie and excited Lazarie begin their trek down the Mekong and beyond, into the remote jungles of Laos. Ultimately, within a tiger’s leap of their goal, misfortune bares its teeth, and LeDallie dies a hero. Lazarie is forced to retreat, and his dream of finding the woman in search of the mythical Fountain of Eternal Life is reluctantly abandoned. Back in Saigon he will become more and more like the old colleague he’s replaced, as he loses his idealism and youth.

But now it’s time for Manu’s story, and again we don’t object to the transition because the subsequent mayhem is exciting. We’ve also begun to figure out where this is going.

It’s 1954. The French Indochina War is limping to its bloody conclusion. France has surrendered at Dien Bien Phu and Captain Manu Tremier is in retreat with his ragtag handful of soldiers, bushwhacking through the jungle toward Laos. Eventually, they wind up in the village of the Sadat, modeled after an actual Khamu village, Mak Tong. More cannot be revealed. With Schroeder, the plot can take surprising turns, and revealing it would simply not do.

With this young writer, you can have high expectations. In addition to characters you want to hang out with (or eavesdrop on), you’ll get an engrossing, frequently surprising plot to keep you second-guessing. You’ll also get a new appreciation for how good the English language really is in the hands of a literary acrobat. Perhaps most importantly, you’ll get so immersed in the world he creates that it might take some time to emerge from it.

His first publication, a collection of short stories in 2001, Kingdom of Monkeys, is partially set in Singapore. His novel, Empress of India, written in 2008, was also set in the same area, during WW II. It also earned him nominations for the Amazon.ca/Books in Canada First Novel award, and the Ethel Wilson Fiction prize. He must know these exotic parts well. Turns out, he does.

“I first travelled to Southeast Asia with my wife in 1996-97, and a visit to Changi Jail in Singapore inspired me to do the work that became my novel Empress of Asia. I went back to Thailand in 2001 to explore some areas that I hadn’t seen on that first trip and which the novel would have to cover, and I became intrigued with Vietnam and Cambodia and Laos—all comprising the former French Indochina—which I’d never set foot in. They loomed as this delicious mystery, but a mystery without a story. I then spent August, 2007, in Laos and Vietnam collecting hordes of material, for In the Fabled East.

Can we expect another book on these fabled lands? Probably not. Schroeder says he never started out with a plan to write three books about Southeast Asia, and now he’s ready to write a murder mystery set in 1958, right where he lives, in Penticton.

Review by Cherie Thiessen

Some things, like Cabernet Sauvignon, need time to develop their flavours. Madison feels that way about his first anthology of short stories based on his life in Africa over twenty years ago.

We often take years to fully understand intense experiences, and often an experience will only be fully understood in light of later events. I needed the distance that time provided to let these stories crystallize. I also needed physical distance. I found it much easier to write about Africa when I was not there. I missed that country terribly and writing about it was a way of returning.

He clearly loved the Dark Continent, so not surprisingly The Moon’s Fireflies is wrapped in nostalgia, and a gentle yearning is diffused into the humour. The book’s title, for example, explains how in the local language, Oron, the stars are named after fireflies. In English nta-nta affiang means the moon’s fireflies. This delicious derivation would never be known if he had not been studying Oron, something his colleague, Clifford, feels is a waste of time, as only 50,000 people speak the language.

Knowing some of the local tongue, of course, does much more than just fascinate; it opens doors and universally adds smiles to faces.

Thus the title captures what is mainly the tone of the book: wonder and delight in the life and people of a remote community.

All of this might seem just a tad clichéd, sentimental stuff, if it weren’t for the dark side of the moon. In several stories, readers’ chuckles will suddenly fall off the deep end as the little anthology is balanced with the starker realities of the ‘happy, simple life’. Malaria, for example, is just as common as those fireflies, routinely taking children away. In another story, there is stark and sudden tragedy and murder; the teacher tackles his fear of monsters with his smile and is rewarded, only to realize in the end that the menace he perceived was very real indeed.

Trained as an anthropologist, Madison lived in several West African countries for seventeen years, working in education and development. These 16 stories cover his stint as an English teacher in Nigeria at Udong Community School. As a result, they’re time capsules, enclosing a culture and past way of life.

To my mind the book was always more of a historical document. Although many Africans still live in villages like those in ‘The Moon’s Fireflies’, one of my motivations for writing these stories was to record some valuable aspects of a world that was rapidly changing. Nowhere is this more apparent than in Affiong. In this story, he’s shackled to an anachronism called ‘Office Studies’, a class where students are learning how to answer imaginary telephones and use old typewriters, unimaginable devices they have never seen in their village!

But really all of the stories, set in the present tense, reflect some aspect of that vanished way of life. The tiny Southeastern Nigerian village of Akai Ison is Madison’s setting, cross crossed by footpaths, not roads, and filled with magic and juju (black magic), where travel is mostly on foot or in a 7-metre canoe ‘taxi’, where electricity is non existent and where running water is only in the rivers and streams.

I get the feeling these stories have been coddled for years before they had to grow up and expose themselves to the outside world. There’s so much love and longing in between the pages that readers may find their mood suddenly growing mysteriously melancholic. In fact, they were introduced to the public for an unsuccessful short period in 2004, when the Victoria based author published most of them through Trafford Publishing under the title, Night Studies.

However, I seriously underestimated the challenges of self-marketing. Very few copies were sold and the book came and went without notice.

Then serendipity stepped in. He tracked down an old high school friend whom he hadn’t seen in 40 years, and discovered this friend, Ron Smith, happened to be the publisher of Oolichan Books: Ron read the stories and said he thought they deserved a much broader audience and asked if I would consider letting Oolichan Books publish them. This seemed like a great opportunity for the stories to have a new lease on life with a much larger readership so I happily agreed.

Two additional stories were added, and the book was re-edited, but not much, according to Madison. One of my favourite stories is Clifford, where for me he achieves one of his objectives completely, that of counterbalancing the ignorance and arrogance of some of the foreigners who come to ‘help’, with the graciousness and generosity of the villagers. It’s an easy topic to overdo, but in this story he gets away with it totally, largely because of the wry humour that had me chortling. However, it works less well in the final story, Unique Data, where the ignorance of other foreign workers is shown up, but too blatantly and without the gentle irony I’d become accustomed to. He really must have detested this pair.

Insofar as these stories are about tolerance, kindness and other social values, I hope they will be relevant not only to today’s readers but to readers 100 years hence, Madison tells me. I hope so too, because this is a book that I will probably keep in my bookcase for a long time. Equally relevant to youth as to adults, it could do worse than wind up in schools.

So pour that glass of Cabernet, open the book, and settle down for a mellow evening of pleasant reading.

Perhaps it’s because the cove seems quite remote, with the bulk of the island’s attractions seemingly only possible by bicycle or car, yet with no taxis or bike rentals available. How can boaters access the public swimming hole at Shell Beach, whale watch from East Point Park and visit the heritage centre newly housed in the old Fog Alarm building? After all, they’re 11 kilometres away. It’s seven kilometres over two challenging hills to get to Saturna Vineyard with its beautiful views and bistro, and it’s four kilometres to haul back wine from the Saturna General Store, and local produce from the neighbouring Saturday Farmers’ market. And how can boaters enjoy those wonderful trails on the ridge of Mt. Warburton Pike when they’ve just exhausted themselves getting to the trailhead? Even the Lighthouse Pub at Lyall Harbour can seem unreachable at six kilometres.

Winter Cove Sunset

However, it can be done. Boaters really need only two things: time, and a willingness to meet the locals. (Read, accepting rides or even putting out thumbs.) Saturna Islanders know transportation is a problem on the island. After all, the population is only around 350 permanent residents. They’re friendly and curious about their visitors. If you walk, most will stop.

If skippers also have a powered dinghy, seeing some of Saturna’s attractions is even easier. Then it’s only about ten minutes by dinghy to Lyall Harbour dock and the adjacent Lighthouse Pub and store, and only two kilometers up the road to the café and Saturna General Store. Then, fuelled by coffee and cake, you can easily access Staples Road and begin the climb up to the trails atop Mount Warburton Pike.

Our experience
Winter Cove’s expansive, shallow anchorage has long been one of our favourite gunk holes. Not having an engine on our tender, we start out walking, past the baseball field and site of the lamb barbecue, and turn right, prepared to tackle the large hill. Happily, we’ve never yet reached the top. It’s usually less than ten minutes before a car stops, and on the 5-minute ride we get to find out what’s happening on the island. Once it was crab night at the community centre, and the friendly driver even offered to come back to Winter Cove later to take us with her. Another time it was one of chef extraordinaire, Hubertus Surm’s incredible dinners at the Café, which was also featuring a new showing of local artist/photographer, Nancy Angermeyer’s startling images. That time, filled to the brim with Saturna Winery’s Semillon Chardonnay and Surm’s Salt Spring mussels and decadent dessert, we opted to walk back to the boat in the moonlight, turning down two offers of rides en route.

The anchorage
Somewhat exposed to north winds throughout, Winter Cove is shallow, with depths of 2 to 3 fathoms. We were surprised, however, to drop our anchor in a deep hole 150 meters off the remains of the wharf on our last visit. The majority of boats seem to favour east of the cable line in the southern part of the cove. Stay well out from remains of the old wharf, as submerged pilings still molder underneath. Probably due to the shallowness of the cove, the water is quite warm for swimming.

The park has a dozen picnic tables, outhouses, and trails, but sadly no longer any water pump. A must is to walk the 1.5 kilometer circular trail to the bench at Boat Passage to watch the waters chug in and out of this narrow passage from the Strait of Georgia, and to imagine how the original First Nationals inhabitants must have felt when they saw their first European vessel ghosting past in the Strait of Georgia.

A Little History

That was in 1791, when the Spanish Schooner, Saturnina, was on its voyage of discovery. Less than a century later, this infertile hilly island was peopled by British settlers who were able to buy land here for about £ 1 per acre in the 1860s. Thwarted in their attempts to work the soil, they cultivated orchards and raised sheep instead.

In 1886, the wooden, coal burning East Point Lighthouse was built on land purchased from pioneer, Warburton Pike, after the coal carrying John Rosenfeld went aground at the point’s infamous Boiling Reef, subsequently supply locals with coal for some time to come. The lighthouse was replaced in 1947 with the red steel skeleton tower you see today.
Saturna’s first school was built in 1919, followed by a post office and store. Recently a new complex on Harris Road has been built to house a clinic, recreation centre, and a Canada Parks office, but the island’s remoteness has kept development to a minimum compared to the other neighbouring islands.

In the 1960s the ground around Winter Cove was the site of an open quarry, the B.C. Lightweight Aggregates Plant, which produced stone chips for road building. Other than the remains of the old wharf, there is little reminder of that industry now. A newly rebuilt boardwalk winds through the wetlands and rushes, while meadows offer wildflowers and songbirds, and Douglas Fir and Arbutus line the two kilometers of trails that loop through the salt marsh to the Strait of Georgia and Boat Passage. Seventy five hectares of land, and an additional 16 hectares of inter tidal foreshore were acquired as a provincial park in 1979, in 2003 becoming part of the newly formed Gulf Islands National Park Reserve. Since 1990, Winter Cove has also been the site of the Lamb Barbecue, a Saturna tradition since 1949.

Attractions

East Point Park and the restored Fog Alarm Building
If there’s only time to do one thing, start walking along coastal East Point Road to the most easterly point on the Gulf Islands, and be ready to ‘thumb’ it. The 2.5-hectare headland at East Point is where Haro Strait merges with the Strait of Georgia, and Canadian and American borders meet. International freighters churn to and from Vancouver harbour. Killer whales also troll the waters here, waters that make a liar out of whoever fashioned the phrase, ‘still waters run deep’. One hundred fathoms deep in places, this ocean is rarely still, providing good fishing for whales and fishers alike. We enjoy wandering on the pool pocked sandstone ledges, admiring nature’s sculptures and the views of Mt. Baker. On the highest point of the headland stands the historic fog alarm building, built in 1938 to house the large diesel air compressors and other large equipment needed to operate the Fog Horn, and one of the most photographed sights on Saturna.

Previous Senator, Pat Carney, played a huge role in saving this building from destruction through her introduction of a bill in 2010, the Heritage Lighthouse Preservation Act, in tandem with the late Nova Scotia senator, Mike Forrestall. It took ten years, but finally Bill S-215 came into affect in May 29, 2010.

A committee of indefatigable locals, the Saturna Heritage Committee, with architect Richard Blagborne at the helm, has subsequently been hard at work refashioning this old building into a small interpretation centre. Cleaning, painting, installing power, equipping, and restoring the building with the assistance of the Capital Regional District and Parks Canada, the committee expects to have the centre open for the 2011 summer season and weekends in the shoulder season. The centre is a welcome enterprise. Like Pender Island’s museum in the restored old Roesland homestead, and like Mayne’s tiny Plumper Sound Lockup, now a tiny museum, the restored fog alarm building will preserve some of the island’s history while adding to visitors’ enjoyment of this wind swept, wild landscape. “The entry room will have a display on the light station history, a small merchandising cabinet and a display of the Santa Saturnina. The larger room is set up for changing displays of wall hung graphic panels and a large video viewing area,” Blagborne told me. “Our committee has a core membership of about 40 residents.”

Check the website for information and opening times before you go: www.saturnaheritage.ca. or email info@saturnaheritage.ca.

Winter Cove Park

Mount Warburton Pike
When we’ve had too many days cooped up in our 25’ C & C, it’s time to really work out with a hike up to the mountain’s summit at 497 meters. We fortify ourselves with a snack from the Saturna General Store, then climb the 4 kilometer dirt road to the ridge. The views from here are the best to be found on the Gulf islands, looking over to Pender and beyond, as well as over to the San Juan Islands. It’s worth descending another steep kilometre to Taylor Point if your legs can take it, and if you have lots of stamina, you can combine trails and actually hike for 21 kilometers in this area. An extended hike this long is a rarity in the Southern Gulf Islands. Be sure to go prepared. Check for maps at the national parks office in the new buildings on Harris Road en route. You can also copy trail instructions from the following site: http://www.waymarking.com/waymarks/WM8XVC_Brown_RidgeSaturna_Island_BC

Saturna Island Family Estate Winery
One of the benefits of extending the hike is that it takes you past the winery. Open from May – October, Saturna Winery offers wine tastings, a lofty bistro, and outdoor tables in a Mediterranean-like setting. Located on what was once the old Thomson farmland, the winery and its 60 acres of vines are tucked into a suntrap between Plumper Sound and Brown Ridge, with nearby Thomson Beach and park providing access for boaters. It’s an idyllic location, but the road in redefines ‘steep’, so be prepared. We have been known to wimp out, saving the winery until we’ve pulled up anchor in Winter Cove and motoring around to the visitor’s dock at Thompson Park and Saturna Beach for lunch and a swim. The park shouldn’t be rushed; it offers good swimming, an attractive beach, and trails along the headland. I can recall teenage summers here when Jim and Lorraine Campbell’s tourist cabins lined the beach and the lamb barbecue was held nearby. This area became a park in 1999 when one of the Thomson siblings, Lorraine Campbell’s brother, sold his part of the land to the winery. Thankfully, this section was saved as a community park. The Campbells still have their farm and home in the eastern portion of what was once a huge property.

Any boaters visiting on the third weekend of September should make a point of visiting the winery for the annual Harvest Festival. It’s a wonderful family event with great food, wine, sack racing, and live music and it has been delighting locals and visitors alike for seven years. www.saturnavineyards.com/events.htm

Combining history with scenic beauty, hikes with deluxe watering holes, and explorations with a serene anchorage, Saturna Island wraps it all up with a sense of community you rarely see these days. Just step off your boat, hit the road, and let it all unfold.

Sidebar:

• Getting there. The preferred approach is from the west, but with the wreck of the tall ship, the Robertson ll firmly in mind, watch out that Minx Reef doesn’t get you as well. It extends westward from the cove’s south side parallel to Samuel Island. If entering from Georgia Strait via Boat Passage, remember there’s only a fathom of water at low tide in the 10-meter-wide channel and that the water can race through here at 8 knots during spring tides.
• Shore leave. Saturna Lodge, a welcome addition to the B & B scene on Saturna, is a great overnight option for boaters ready for a bed on dry land and someone else to cook breakfast. They’ll come and get you. (www.saturna.ca)
• By tender. Dinghies can safely take the shorter route to Lyall Harbour over the reef across Veruna Bay to Saturna Point, site of the public wharf. It’s just over a nautical mile.
• Saturna Regatta.
• If you ever find yourself sandwiched between a squadron of wacky sailing vessels and the shore anywhere near Saturna, check the calendar. If it’s the fourth Saturday of August, you’re in for a lot of fun. They’ve been doing this for twelve years; how is it they haven’t been banned from the seas? This is a sailing race where you can probably get away without sails, and even racing appears optional. Check out the fun. http://www.saturnacan.net/PageFiles/regatta.html

Question: How do two ‘girlfriends’ celebrate their 60^th birthdays?

Answer: Well it obviously has to be naked bungy jumping or whitewater rafting. Given our age, the latter seemed a kinder option for all involved.

When it comes to slamming into 2 storey waves and getting sucked down, chewed up and spit out of thundering overfalls, whirlpools and rapids, one really neat place to do it is on the Fraser Canyon route in British Columbia. Here, near Lytton, where the Thompson and the Fraser Rivers clash and riot, is the fastest, wildest, most temperamental white water you ever saw.

When driving this scenic section of the Trans Canada Highway, one of the first things you’ll notice is the proliferation of White Water Rafting billboards by the sides of the highway. How to decide which one to try?

We settled on Kumsheen, meeting of the waters, for several reasons. Firstly, it’s a resort, so we could carry on our annual tradition of celebrating our birthdays and friendship with five-star lodging, and epicurean meals and wine, while we scared ourselves speechless. Most the outfits along the river offer rafting and that’s it. Why raft when you can resort? Secondly, Kumsheen has been around forever, since 1973 in fact, when no-one had even heard of rafting these brawling rivers, and Bernie Fandrich, a teacher at Langara College in Vancouver, took on the Thompson with one little raft transported atop his VW camper. He charged $8 per person, and at the end of the summer, $1000 richer, he altered his life. At another bend in the river, he also altered his marital status, finding the perfect partner in Lorna, herself a white water enthusiast. A trained nurse, she had come to Kumsheen for a rafting holiday, little knowing what her future held. Bernie and Lorna have since raised a daughter and two sons who are all in the business, own a thriving resort and campsite on expansive lands on the river as well as choice properties in the surrounding area, and employ a youthful, dynamic staff of 50, making Kumsheen the largest employer in the Lytton area. Not bad for a business that can only operate from May 1 to September 30.

There’s a third reason, too, their safety record. Our guide, Rob, assured us before motoring us off into mayhem, that the 220,000 thrill seekers they’ve taken out in 34 years have all been fine. Make that 219,998. Two people did go for a surprise swim, but both of them were quickly hauled out of the river. I was also reassured to learn there’s a backup inflatable that always accompanies the rafters. The fact that the parents of students from 17 regional high schools annually entrust their teenagers to Kumsheen, didn’t hurt either.

Okay, there’s a fourth reason. I’d already heard that Bernie and Lorna were very sticky about the B.C. licensed guides they hired; even then giving them an additional 2-weeks’ training. After all, guiding here is not a cruise not the river. As Bernie puts it:

The Thompson River’s rapids between Spences Bridge and Lytton are legendary. Monstrous waves, whirlpools and boils challenge river runners during high water in May and June. Later in the summer the river warms and becomes more technical with large, rolling waves and steep drops, and pools between the rapids.

And wouldn’t you know we’d be there in early June, when the Thompson was higher than anyone could remember and the river seemed to be drag racing with the freight trains hurtling down the canyon alongside us.

It’s Monday, nine a.m. and I am trying to get the toast down. We’ll need to meet our guide in half an hour, meet our fellow rafters, and get into our wetsuits. It’s a little dull and drizzly but I have been assured I’ll get drenched rain or shine.

It’s ten, and we are on our way, a ten minute trip to the ‘put in’ spot near Spences Bridge, two pickups hauling 22’ Pontoon rafts, especially designed by Bernie for running the Thompson and Fraser rivers, Although these sturdy vessels can take from 18 – 22 people, today there are only four of us. My buddy, Heather, small but tough; myself, big but a blubberer; and one of Kumsheen’s chefs, Jonathan, along with his friend, a tour guide, also Jonathan. (They became known as O Johnny and Johnny E.)

After a confidence-building safety briefing on board which included instructions on how to catch the towrope if we found ourselves in the Thompson, what to do if the boat flipped with us under it, and how to hang on, we pushed out into the obese river. My throat was dry with dread. What good were my prayer beads when I had to hang on for dear life? I needed gum.

A flea on a very irritated elephant, we raced and bucked our way toward Lytton, 25 miles downriver. Between us and the resort’s hot tub were 25 rapids. I didn’t ask for details but somehow suspected the worst would come after our lunch stop, having recalled something that Bernie had told me earlier: … the rapids – especially those in the Devil’s Gorge between Spences Bridge and Lytton – are always challenging for the guide and thrilling for the rafter.

Apparently, as one of the first people to raft the area, he got the sadistic pleasure of naming most of the rapids: Washing Machine, Witch’s Cauldron, Devil’s Kitchen, Jaws of Death.

I had thought initially I could pass the terrifying time by counting down the rapids: 25-24-23-22, but somewhere after the first two, with their rearing crests and their blasts of icy water, I forgot about that and started experimenting with whether it was better not to look, or to look and scream.

I’ll get you hangin’ on now, Tod would lazily drawl, while – with a glint in his eye – he would steer the bucking raft into the wildest water in the current stretch of rapids. Worse yet, just as soon as he could see I had unbent the last of my 10 fingers from my traumatized grip on the rope, he would bully the boat around and force the howling engine to press upriver so that we could run ‘em again. Save your gas, I tried whispering, please don’t feel there’s a need to… And he would smile sweetly and reply: I’ll get you hangin on now. He only did this on a select few of the 25 rapids, the ones that felt like we were slamming into Everest on a bad day. In between kamikaze charges into the white water, Rob would switch off the engine, chatting and joking, throwing in some history, and pointing out interesting sights along the way, like the bleached bones of a rafter who forgot to hang on, and the rattlesnake bridge. Why wasn’t this relaxing, looking up at the incredible scenery, the eagles, the ospreys, the trains rolling past with the engineers waving and blowing their horns, while the current swiped us quickly toward the jagged rocks, sideways? Why couldn’t I unwind a little more when Rob cut the engine and climbed unto his precarious perch, teetering over the side as he told us what horrors awaited us around the next bend?

The lunch spot loomed. We pulled onshore and dripped our way across the highway to a mirage, a verdant little slice of picnic paradise owned by Bernie and Lorna, where a warm and welcoming historic building laden with lunch goodies and hot drinks, awaited us. We munched out on the deck within earshot of nearby Nicomen Falls.

All too soon, lunch was over, and the ‘fun part’ was about to begin. The next section contained 15 rapids, in addition to the four fondly named by Bernie. Somewhere in this section, just past the Jaws of Death, I believe, I passed beyond terror into the realm of insanity; I started having fun. I still don’t know how anyone can head into such a boiling cauldron and get out in one piece. How did we do that? I’m going to have to go back and find out. Maybe our 65^th birthdays? Maybe the 5-day trip?

Sidebar:

There’s really only one thing you need to know. www.kumsheen.com. How to get there, what to bring, trips available, power and paddle rafting, history, accommodation details, and what life insurance to buy, is all on this terrific site. Or call 1-800-663-6667.

In the old days we knew it as Lord Jim Resort, a collection of chalets and cottages on a pretty part of British Columbia’s Sunshine Coast, picturesquely named Halfmoon Bay. We would drop in for a decent meal overlooking the sea, or sometimes we would sail there from Vancouver Island and tie up for a few days of R & R after the frequently adventurous Georgia Strait crossing in our 23’ Crown sailboat.

But that was then and this is now, and Lord Jim is now Rockwater Secret Cove Resort, the hottest romantic getaway on the coast, with 67 weddings on the books this year according to President, Kevin Toth. Toth, who was 17 years with the Fairmont Hotel Chain, is telling us how he was influenced by African Safari properties when he started looking at the resort and trying to decide what he could do with the undeveloped, gorgeous strip of oceanfront property to the left of the main buildings and marina. He wanted a development with a low environmental impact but it had to be classy, effective, and luxurious. He started thinking tents.

So we started looking and found a circus tent design we liked, then found a local tent manufacturer and explained what we were after. He delivered. Everything was built by hand, and when we started developing that section of the property we didn’t use any machinery. We had a goal to cut down as few trees as possible. Each tent site was personally inspected and chosen. We then put in 2400’ of boardwalk to link them all together.

Now if you’re thinking tents can’t possibly be luxurious or romantic, you don’t know the Serengeti. Or Okavango Delta. Start picturing luxurious carpets, marble floors, four posters, spacious bathrooms and every imaginable luxury.

But we were out to discover what a resort had to do to qualify as romantic. The 13 tent house suites spaced along a boardwalk connecting to the main lodge, and curling through the arbutus-studded canopy was inspired. It definitely qualified for an “R” rating. Oceanfront views accompanied by the sound of surf never do any harm either. The extensive, covered, and largely private decks with comfortable furnishings, which enable lovers to come out, cuddle up and get some fresh air are also a nice cozy touch. We checked off fine linens, the king sized bed facing the ocean, the fluffy bathrobes, the fireplace, shoji screen the radiant floor heating and the amazing hydro therapy tub for two that massaged with water jets while bombarding us with flashing colored lights. Well, that got three checks actually. Finally, we approved of the book selection, the tea and coffee makers and the mini refrigerator. The final check was when I opened the refrigerator and yes – there it was – a container of real cream instead of that plastic dried stuff.

So far this place was measuring up in every little detail. Even the fact that tents don’t hold in the heat too well didn’t harm this romantic survey in the least because if you’re snuggling up together, a little cold can be a good thing.

But we were still not finished. Another touch is the hand carved gongs at the pathway to every tent, located far enough away to keep visitors at a respectful distance until you’re ready for them.

So what else defines romantic? Wine, roses and oysters, no doubt. So we head to the intimate, dreamy dining room and find it warmly lit. Rockwater has lucked out in its chef, Ben Andrew, who tosses off dishes like West Coast Bouillabaisse,

Pacific Albacore Tuna, seared, with crème fraiche, and crisp capers, or Qualicum Bay Scallop Ceviche with preserved lime and scallions. We consider ourselves crème brule experts, and his classic creation was the finest. The wine selections were extensive and we were happy to see a good selection of wines by the glass, something many restaurants still overlook. We had no intention of falling off the boardwalk when the night was still young.

And aren’t spas considered seductive? More checks then. The resort’s spa has had a special presence on the Sunshine Coast well before the tents wove their magic here. Clients have been able to walk along a boardwalk to a massage room without walls and enjoy a variety of relaxing treatments while listening to the gulls and the waves chasing each other just feet away. Now double that and make it a couple’s massage, and you have more accolades.

Was there anything where it lost points? Well, while walls have ears, tent walls have hearing aides – sound is magnified. We were too shy to put this to the test, but if you are worried, may I suggest you ask for the waterfront tents located closest to the sea down their own private staircase? There’s a good chance the melodious sea might cover whatever sounds of delight issue from your Arabian Nights’ paradise.

Finally, the icing on the bridal cake, really, is our discovery that Rockwater actually employs someone whose job description is an elopement coordinator!

It’s time to go. We knew it had to happen. It’s hard enough to kiss romance goodbye, but after thirty years of marriage, good food is even harder to leave behind. For us, as possibly for you, there was solace in knowing that Spence on the Coast wasn’t too far away. This enterprising gourmet chef, who also has his own TV show, has opened a popular restaurant in nearby Sechelt, so where is it written that you have to leave the Sunshine Coast today? You’ve come this far, take another night and visit Spence, and then if you’re not ready to say goodbye to these incredible ocean views, book yourself in at Peter and Norma Bond’s nearby Bed and Breakfast, At the Shore.

The older you (and your marriage) get, the more you come to realize that romance needs to be wooed. So, if it’s missing in your life these days, go on out, find it, experience it, and drag it home.

Websites:

www.rockwatersecretcoveresort.com

On the Shore, Peter and Norma Bond

Whale watching, jet boat mail delivering, sand dune scaling, misty meandering on empty, wave thumped beaches, or swallowing ‘razors’ at surfside restaurants – it’s impossible to tire of Oregon’s 286-mile coastal strip. We’ve been trundling along here for over 30 years and still haven’t left our footprints on all the beaches.

Our Oregon orgy begins by crossing Columbia River’s expansive girth over the Astoria-Megler Bridge, rolling from Washington into Oregon. At 4 miles, it’s the world’s longest continuous truss bridge, a fittingly dramatic entrance to a histrionic coast.

Astoria is Mile O. The thing is, we’re always too eager to see our first breakers boiling in from Japan, so our first stop is usually Fort Stevens, 10 miles west. The 3700-acre state park is festooned with hiking trails and history, but it’s the skeleton of the Peter Iredale most come to see, shipwrecked in 1906 and still moldering on the beach. That’s where we head; we want to dip our toes in the Pacific churn. There’s something about realizing that these waves have chugged all the way from Japan that makes us silly.

Dripping back to our VW, we next prepare to meet Terrible Tilly. (Tillamook Head). Treacherous Tilly wrecked 2000 ships until a lighthouse built in 1881 warned off approaching potential victims. Now she threatens to wreck as many cars, as stunned motorists get her stark beauty full in the face. This coastline is first and foremost about gawking, and Ecola State Park, just north of Cannon Beach, is the perfect place to pull over and practice: mists twist up from Pacific crests, which in turn shatter on a silky expanse of beach. Then, a west coast touch – the scattering of shaggy pinnacles. We can never get enough of this, the first in a maelstrom of magical views. From the park, trails entice stunned first timers to viewing points of Tillamook Rock’s Lighthouse and Cannon Beach’s Super Star, the 235’ monolith called Haystack Rock. Never rush Cannon Beach. The Wayfarer Restaurant, lolling beside its shore, is where we like to digest the view and tuck into our first ‘razors’ of the year. Razor clams call these west coast beaches home, and we call them our signature Oregon Coast dish. www.cannonbeach.org

All this and we’ve only gone 30 miles.

At Bay City, our dream highway starts to wind inland slightly as it heads to Tillamook, which has two attractions worth braking for. Tillamook Cheese sets the gold standard for fromage, and who can pass up trying it? And there’s ice cream, snuggled in waffle cones made here, the perfect receptacles for over 30 decadent flavours of the creamy stuff. The featured flavour this year is Black Walnut. Go on, try it. www.tillamookcheese.com/

According to the Guinness Book of Records, the hangar we pass upon licking and leaving is the largest wooden structure in the world – a WW II Blimp Hangar. www.tillamookair.com Amateur aviators will be amazed at the number of old warplanes. There’s a whole flock of  ‘war birds’ in here – including an SBD Dauntless dive-bomber.

Tossing off Tillamook and thoughts of WW II, we roll over the hills to Lincoln City, 45 miles on. www.oregoncoast.org The Inn at Spanish Head hunkers on the beach here. It’s unique; structures can’t be built down here anymore. Ask for room 331. Recently renovated, the compact suite has a kitchen bar and a bed that’s practically in the sea. There’s great service at this venerable hotel, and a popular, romantic restaurant. We beach comb, and chase tumbling clumps of sea foam, then retire to our balcony to guzzle California bubbly and watch beach walkers making similar fools of themselves. www.spanishhead.com/

Then there’s this glass art studio we visit for a bit of artsy fun, blowing our own glass floats, shimmery, colourful souvenirs that are actually worth having. Lincoln City hides 2000 of these vibrant spheres on the beach every year, a great excuse to linger longer. www.oregoncoast.org/foundry

The next morning’s stop is only 15 miles away. At Depoe Bay we pull over on the front, our favoured vantage spot for seeing grey whales spouting just offshore. www.depoebaychamber.org. Claiming to be the world’s smallest fishing port, Depoe Bay’s harbour is accessible by a formidable narrow entrance at certain times of the tide. The locals call the experience ‘shooting the hole.’ If you’re up for it, book a fishing charter with Tradewinds and get the whole Zen: spotting whales up close, catching salmon or rockfish, and losing your breakfast in the frequently rough seas. www.tradewindsharters.com

I prefer watching the action from The Tidal Raves Restaurant and having scallops for a late breakfast. (It doesn’t open until 11.)

Just 13 miles on and we cross Yaquina Bay Bridge, the first of five ornate bridges with art deco touches, built in the 1930s. Welcome to Newport. We pull into South Beach Sate Park for our second night and book a yurt. The park has paths along Yaquina Bay, beaches to forever, and 2-hour guided kayak tours. Nearby is the Oregon Coast Aquarium, which features changing exhibits, although the permanent Passages of the Deep, a suspended underwater acrylic tunnel, is a draw in itself. We head outside to the outdoor viewing pools to catch a glimpse of some tufted puffins. www.aquarium.org.

Day 3 opens its eye and it’s 23 miles to Yachats, a little village with a huge roster of year round festivals. We turn up routinely at their mushroom fest in October, in time for a guided forest mushroom walk and some fabulous fungi food.

Now we continue 16 miles down 101 to our next stop at the world’s largest sea caves. The Sea Lion Caves, a 60+year-old attraction, has to be visited at least once, but for us it’s an annual ritual, sort of like communion. www.sealioncaves.com.

By mid afternoon we’re nudging toward sand country and pass a few hitchhiking dunes. www.florenceoregon.net When we reach Florence, the start of Oregon Dunes National Recreation Area, we put paid to the rest of our day and book a yurt in Jessie M. Honeyman Memorial State Park, smack dab in duneland. At the lap of these golden humps reclines warm Woahink Lake, perfect for rinsing off all that sugary sand. As everywhere on the Oregon coast, hiking trails go on forever, tempting visitors, especially those with kids, to head to the nearby dune buggy rental outlets to get up close and personal with that sand. www.sandland.com

Day 4 includes a stop at Bullards Beach State Park for a mile long walk on the paved pathway to the beach. Destination Coquille River Lighthouse, where we spend an hour on the breezy breakwater, watching the river clamor out to the sea and the occasional marine traffic clamber in.

Bandon is another essential stop. We head into the historic old town, chockfull of interesting buildings, and the home of Bandon Coffee Café, brewing the best java on the coast. Here’s where we munch pastries and sop them up with prima Italian coffee.

So on to Port Orford, more stops en route to rave and to revel at the vistas, and then day’s end at Gold Beach. The Rogue River mail run departs from here, and no one should miss this 6 hour backcountry adventure. www.mailboat.com/postmansrun.cfm

We book at the Tu-Tu-Tun-Lodge on the Rogue River’s north bank and wait for our ’ship’ to come in; it’ll stop right on front of our luxurious lodging. www.tututun.com

Day 5 and we’re running out of Oregon. A must stop at Harris State Park Beach in Brookings for pelican spotting. Flocks of them perform here, trolling past with huge bills agape. It’s a perfect place to give our budget a break and bed down in another yurt. Later we’ll take our wine glasses down to the lookout and watch the most spectacular sunset on the Oregon Coast, before driving the same route back tomorrow.

Trust me. There are some road trips you never tire of.

Essentials:

Lots of info on this site:

www.VisitTheOregonCoast.com

Speaking of razors:

Lincoln City’s Chinook Winds Casino also has razors to rave about. www.chinookwindscasino.com. It’s our favourite coastal casino.

Parks Unlimited:

www.oregon.gov/OPRD/PARKS/camping.shtml

This site contains info on all state parks described above.

There are 46 of them, a mind blowing assortment of picnic sites, campgrounds, rest spots, and trailheads – many with hiking trails, self guiding signs, historical plaques, washrooms, showers, drinking water, viewpoints, history, lighthouses, whale and bird watching sites. Welcome to park heaven.

Yurting it:

Throw some sleeping bags into your boot and maybe even a camp stove and dishes, and then plan on staying at some of the yurts found in 14 parks en route. The cyclindrical structures have heat and electricity, beds, an outside water tap and covered picnic tables. Nearby central blocks have showers, sinks and hot water. Best yet, the cost is $27-$30.

Sand Castles:

Cannon Beach’s June competition is the oldest and the first on the coast. Sand sculptures also spring up at Lincoln City. Check their sites for the dates.

Don’t forget:

. Binoculars to spy grey whales, tufted puffins, pelicans.

. Rain gear and boots. Walking on the beaches in the rain and mist is very Oregon coast.

Quebec’s Magdalen Islands, curled in the middle of the Gulf of St. Lawrence, have fascinated me ever since I learned of the Acadians in high school history. More commonly called Les Îles de la Madeleine by the Francophone majority, the islands are 95 km. from Cape Breton Island and 105 km. from P.E.I.

Like many Canadians, in March 2008, I heard about the tragedy of the four Madelinot seal hunters killed in an incredible towing incident. On the news I watched hundreds of islanders attend the sealers’ funeral at an enormous wooden church, and added Saint-Pierre de La Vernière to my must-see list. My partner and I had often spoken wistfully of combining a holiday with a little French immersion, now here was an opportunity to blend in a little history as well.

Allons-y! We flew to Montreal in mid June, and took the passenger/car ferry, the Vacancier, to Les Îles. Once there, our rental car and our explorations awaited us.

The church was first on our list, and second was the historic area of La Grave, but the story of Le Ponchon was still waiting to be told, and the discovery of Old Harry and its English speaking community awaited us.

The church, located on the main island of Cap aux Meules, is just a few kilometres west along the main road toward the Étang du Nord area, so in only minutes we are able to see this massive white edifice, with its 150’ steeple. Its very height is also its nemesis, however. Built in 1876 in Gothic Revival style by P.E.I. architect, Émile Gallant, it has been singled out and damaged by lightning in 1900, 1945, 1947 and 1980. Listed as a Québec historical monument in 1992, it’s the islands’ only heritage building, revered by many of the 13,000-odd islanders. It was built with construction timber from the hold of a wrecked ship, cargo that locals first blessed and held prayer meetings over to rid it of a curse upon it when in the middle of a storm the captain swore at the heavens, The devil with the cargo!

Saint-Pierre has the distinction of being the second largest wooden church in North America. A mere speck in the vast, undulating graveyard, I stand peering up at it, overwhelmed with the devotion of the generations who have lived and died here, and the immensity of their fortitude as evidenced in the structure they patiently built and rebuilt on an island with scant timber.

Now we start our drive south. The narrow road becomes less traveled as we roll across the skinny sandbar that separates Cap aux Meules from Havre Aubert, a windswept road with a ribbon of sandy wave-bashed beach on the left, and on the right a wide lagoon, only separated from the Gulf by another narrow sandbar. We’re headed to the historical site of La Grave, where Acadians, expelled from the Maritimes by the English in the mid 18^th century, came to settle and work for Richard Gridley, an Anglo American entrepreneur who set up the first fishing post here after Great Britain granted America the right to fish in the Gulf of St. Lawrence.

Perched on a sliver of sand, the community is lined with traditional homes, many turned into gift shops, restaurants, or arts and crafts studios. Their architecture reflects the French origins of many of the Madelinots: cedar shingles and bright colours, with enclosed porches and hip roofs. Designated as an historical site by the Minister of Cultural Affairs in 1983, La Grave is living history. Entering Café de La Grave, a favourite with locals for 30 years, it feels as if time stopped a century ago. A well used old piano lounges in the corner, waited to be played. Two couples drinking beer are playing chess; the wooden tables and chairs could have come from my grandmother’s home. A young woman picks up an accordion and begins to sing, while others join in, and a young waiter teases me about my west coast French.

Our senses sated, we brave the strong wind and walk past the old buildings to the Museé de la Mer, at the end of the street. I point to an odd object. What’s that? Why is a large wooden barrel sprouting a sail anchored on museum grounds? It turns out it’s a ponchon and we discover its significance once inside.

The Ponchon is a wooden barrel, traditionally used for molasses. It was 1910. Shipping between the islands and the mainland ceased in winter, leaving the islanders connected to the world through one lone telegraph cable, which broke on January 6^th. While several hardy Madelinots volunteered to risk the journey by boat, the wiser contrived a safer plan: to place the mail inside a ponchon equipped with rudder and sails. The wind was forecast to blow from the northeast for several days, so off went the tiny missive from Havre Aubert on February 2, whimsically labeled “Winter Magdalen Mail”. Several days later it nudged up against the shores of Port Hastings in Nova Scotia. Its contents were read, and shortly thereafter the steamship, Harlow, left its berth in Sydney, steaming toward the isolated Madelinots.

Ever since, Le Ponchon has been a cultural symbol representing the islanders’ hardiness and ingenuity.

Havre Aubert is the southernmost island, so we retrace our tracks to Cap aux Meules and then carry on north with high expectations. Now we’ll get to see much more of this island chain as we drive along its vertebrae toward Grosse Île. It’s a beautiful journey along a sandbar so skinny we can see both sides of the Gulf. This stretch is less traveled, with few buildings. We roll through sand dunes, past sandy beaches, and our day is made when we spy a snowy owl atop a stunted tree. It’s 75 km. to the English speaking community of Old Harry and its tiny museum, housed in what was the original little red schoolhouse, but we’ve taken two hours to meander here. . . . Wynn Currie greets us. Like so many islanders, she was born here, as were her ancestors, and she’s written a book on the historical heritage of English Communities on the Magdalens. “Many of our ancestors are Scottish, survivors of shipwrecks. A tragic one was The Miracle. On May 19, 1847, it went aground at East Point. Locals rescued many of them but unfortunately, there was typhoid fever on board and a local woman, Mary Clark, lost her life while nursing the victims.” She attended the old schoolhouse, built in 1922 to accommodate approximately 20 students up to grade 9. It closed in 1975 and ten years later, under the auspices of C.A.M.I. (Council for Anglophone Magdalen Islanders,) it became a tiny museum chronicling the history of the English speaking population. Anglophones are approximately only 5% of the Magdalen’s numbers and many are found here, as well as on Grande Entrée and Entry Island, the latter accessible only by a small ferry or private boat across frequently rough waters.

A weekend really isn’t long enough to uncover the magic and history of these islands, but that was fine with us. We still had our French immersion programme to look forward to. And by the way, if your French is rusty or non-existent, don’t despair, most islanders speak English.

If You Go

The Magdalens are only 65 km long, and traffic not heavy, so driving is not onerous. Even with the return trip from Cap aux Meules to Havre Aubert, and then north to Grosse Île, the sites could be seen in a day. A weekend is better. Only one road links the islands, so navigation is straightforward.

Hunkering down with history

• Domaine du Vieux Couvent (The old Convent). This historic waterfront inn, with sweeping views and excellent local cuisine and rooms, has been sensitively converted from a convent.

292, route 199

Havre aux Maisons

T: (418) 969-2233

www.domaineduvieuxcouvent.com

Tourism

• Tourisme Îles de la Madeleine

128, chemin Principal

Cap aux Meules

T: (418) 986-2245, (877) 624-4437

www.tourismeilesdelamadeleine.com

• Bonjour Québec,  Quebec Tourism

#100, 1255 rue Peel

Montreal

T: (877) 266-5687

www.bonjourquebec.com

Airlines

• Canada Jazz. www.aircanada.com
• Pascan Aviation Inc. Flies from Québec City, Montréal and Bonaventure.  www.pascan.com

Ferries

C.T.M.A. offers two ways to reach the islands.

• Cruising with History. Take the Vacancier for a 2-night mini cruise leaving Montréal weekly in season. Check out the Acadian History and Culture theme cruise on their website.
• M/V Madeleine. Daily 5-hr. ferry crossing from Prince Edward Island.

T: (418) 986-3278 or (888) 986-3278

www.ctma.ca