Between Gardens

Observations on Gardening, Friendship and Disability
by Carol Graham Chudley and Dorothy Field
Polestar Book Publishers,
S.C.. $24.95, 240 pp.

The letters capture ephemeral moments and chronicle a special time in the women’s lives while also
giving the reader insights into gardening and nature.

Although they were neighbours, Carol’s idea to share observations, perceptions and gardening hints
the old-fashioned way, on paper, proved to be inspirational. This is made poignant by the fact that
one of the gardeners dies before the book is published, heightening the readers’ awareness of the
fleeting bloom of life and the need to make every moment, and every season, count.

If Dorothy’s name sounds familiar, it may be because she was one of the six poets I reviewed in
Threshold
, Six Women, Six Poets, edited by Rona Murray, in November, 1999. A traveler,
paper maker, and teacher as well as a gardener and writer, Dorothy delights in combining several of her
passions into one venture: friendship, paper making, photography, gardening, and writing are all blended
in this book. Carol, also living in Sidney, created gardens and galleries that
were well frequented by friends, artists and guests especially before her debilitating illness.
She was a potter and teacher as well, also drawing many visitors to her studio.

In addition to their letters and observations, selections from a journal that Carol kept, documenting her illness and her feelings toward it, have been inserted into the book in order to give the reader more insight. Without these journal selections you would hardly be aware that Carol’s life had been so drastically altered and restricted, as her letters to Dorothy are always insightful, sensitive and full of the joy of life. The addition of these journal entries provides another level to the book.

I can think of several friends whom I’ll be buying and sharing this book with.

Silent Inlet

by Joanna Streetly
Oolichan Books
S.C. $22.95, 448 pp.

Five years ago, Hannah escaped from Hansen Sound, a storm-wrapped, isolated sliver of village on Vancouver Island’s west coast. She fled north to train and work as a nurse, perhaps desperate for the reliable rays of a Yukon sun.

In the sopping bi-cultural home of her birth, the sun is a rare occurrence, especially at the darkest time of the year, the winter solstice, the time when she returns. She is escaping again, this time from Whitehorse and an abusive relationship, carrying bruises and bumps, one of which is not going to go away anytime soon.

This is no easy homecoming.

While the concept of a “runaway” daughter returning home humbled and pregnant is a bit of a cliché, there is nothing clichéd about Hannah or the home she returns to. The novel unfolds through the thoughts and actions of four people: Hannah and her mother, Harry, (short for Harriet) and Big Mack Stanley and his nephew, Lonny. 

Writing from a male view point with a different cultural outlook would be challenging for most, but Streetly knows what she’s doing. Married to a Tla-o-qui-aht carver for seven years, she obviously learned more than just a new language. Having lived in Clayoquot Sound for 16 years, she also has had time to absorb the tang and bluster of a sodden Tofino winter. Arriving in Canada in 1990 as an immigrant from Trinidad and England, she also knows what it’s like to be connected to two cultures but to not fully belong to either, something that haunts some of the novel’s characters.

She has a unique approach to her writing. 

“When I began this book, I didn’t write. I drew. I drew people, houses, floor plans, maps, maps and more maps. I named every street in town and every river in the Sound. Hanson Sound came alive for me, even though it is completely fictional.”

In addition to being an artist, the author is also a kayak guide - she’s the author of Paddling Through Time and editor of Salt in Our Blood . Thus she drew on all her skills to give credibility and depth to the brooding setting of the novel. 

Harry, a self reliant loner who lives on her own small island about 2 hours by boat from the village, was a single mother who brought up her daughter, Hannah, to be like she was. As a young teenager, Hannah rebelled and went to live in town, staying with a loving childless couple, Jack and Ada, in order to attend school. Now Ada is dead, but Jack’s home is still Hannah’s and he is still her surrogate father. Hannah never knew or wanted to know anything about her birth father who left without even knowing he had planted a seed. Now, however, contemplating being a single mother herself, Hannah wants to know more. What she learns will slightly alter the way she sees the world. 

Big Mack has no idea what happened to his mother when she disappeared when he was a young boy. His father went on a binge and before they knew it, the children were dispersed. Now in his late 30’s he is again living in his father’s home, trying in turn to be father to two boys, one of whom is as good as orphaned. Lonny is the son of one of Big Mack’s brothers, in jail for murdering Lonny’s mother. The ten- year old is on the brink - what way will he teeter? On the side of love, openness and the optimism of childhood or toward the cynical, despairing ennui of those who have gone before? A frightening accident suddenly puts pressure on all these fragile relationships.

A fifth character is the setting itself - the rain, the storms, the quality of light and smell of the sea, the remoteness. The Sound blankets the inhabitants, warming, chilling, imprisoning and freeing them. This is a strong part of the book, and no surprise. A kayaker moves slowly and knows the land in a way that others never will. The ambivalent feelings as well between mother and daughter are also sensitively explored. What daughter doesn’t know this emotion? “Guilt and love and fear and pity and anger all bundled into one feeling.”

The sudden revelations that appear in a world where everything must happen in its own time, and where ways of thinking will only alter over generations, however, feel like too much too soon. For example: “Hannah is suddenly overcome by the way sadness can be everywhere and nowhere; present, yet invisible…..It makes her feel connected on a different level, as if this thread of sadness binds them together…For someone who has always been a loner, the feeling is strange, but she welcomes it.” 

Or for Big Mack: “From a faraway corner of his brain, he feels his mother’s smile creeping out at him again. It beams at him for a few seconds and then vanishes. Mack feels his own mouth lift at the corners, returning the smile. He smiles harder as a sense of joy and love run into him.” 

Silent Inlet gives us a sense of place and a sense of what’s possible. It’s enough.

Getting the Details Right

Focus on Women
text by Cherie Thiessen, photography by Tony Bounsall

                      

Jennifer Barr’s Arts and Craft Home

Sometimes a house is more than a home. For Jennifer and Colin Barr, the one and a half storey Craftsman bungalow is their hobby, their passion, their showpiece, and their child. And, like a well loved child, it exudes confidence, a sense of well being, and pride. In 1986, after looking for 8 months for a unique house to accommodate their special interests, the Barrs were delighted to finally find it. Since 1971, they had been hooked on the Arts and Crafts Movement and had become
avid collectors, so they required a house that would showcase their ceramics and metalwork, their books, their furniture and their prints. They also wanted room for 

their offices, and all this had to be found in a Craftsman house. It also had to be affordable, with a good layout and untouched Arts and Crafts woodwork.

A tall order, and they were lucky to fill it in only eight months! Because the house was in North Park, the price was more affordable, and although they weren’t thrilled with the stucco that had been plastered over the building’s exterior in 1947, they felt they could live with that because the interior was perfect for their
purposes.

"When one of the previous owners (Anita Chow) showed us a photo of the house before the stucco was put on, 

we asked city council to designate it as heritage. "We didn’t want somebody else coming and destroying this house. It’s worth keeping," Jennifer says. That’s an understatement.

Jennifer is a Heritage Consultant and has been the Administrator of the Victoria Heritage Foundation since January, 1987. She has a diploma in Culture Resource Management from the University of Victoria, and her background is impressive.  She’s a  dedicated and ardent heritage advocate, having served on the Hallmark Society Executive for eleven years before

becoming Administrator for the Foundation.  (The Hallmark Society, founded in 1973, is a volunteer advocacy group for Heritage in the capital region.) She’s done research for the Oak Bay and Saanich heritage inventories as well as downtown Victoria’s and has been working on Cumberland’s for the past five and a half years.  

Formed in 1983 to distribute city grant monies to Designated Heritage Houses for the purpose of assisting the restoration and maintenance of their exteriors, The Victoria Heritage Foundation has been invaluable for its support in retaining Victoria’s historic neighbourhoods, discouraging insensitive and inappropriate rehabilitation and the demolition of irreplaceable buildings.

Through prolonging the life of the original structures, it also reduces both the need for new resources and the overuse of landfill sites. If you want to know more about the VHF, you can now access it on Internet: vhf.city.victoria.bc.ca.

Although its funding has not changed since1989, Jennifer has nothing but praise for the Foundation. ‘The City is very supportive of the programme. It really is working."  She also tells me that it’s the largest programme of its kind in Canada, as far as she knows, and that it has been proven that the money that the Foundation gives to heritage home owners is returned in taxes to the city and benefits to the community. Benefits like increased tourism, for example,
and neighbourhood pride. People love to take walking tours of heritage buildings, and the Foundation has helped fund several successful printings of walking tour brochures, (James Bay and Fernwood, for example). Presently there are 230 houses that have been designated as heritage buildings.

A meticulous and thorough researcher, Jennifer brought these impressive skills to uncovering the past of her own special house. She and her well known husband, Colin, have lovingly and painstakingly restored this house and she says they’re not nearly finished yet. She can tell you everything you could possibly want to know about the house’s construction, its history, and its architect. Jennifer leaves me in awe - she’s everything that I’m not: she’s a perfectionist, she’s patient, she
works hard and efficiently, and she’s thorough. She’s patient with me, and is happy to take the time to go through my story, ensuring that all the details are right.

"Elmer Ellsworth Green (E.E. Green)..was a Seattle architect who had an office up here for about 2 years. …..In the 1890’s he was the manager of the Giant Powder Works out at Ten Mile Point. By 1905, he had set up in Seattle as an architect. When I did the Saanich heritage buildings inventory I came across the name E.E. Green. We had already bought this house, and I started to wonder if he was the same guy. He was."

How can you tell an E.E. Green designed house? "If you look up at the gables on the outside you’ll see he does enormous gables which sweep down. There are cuts in the ends of the bargeboards and pyramids flattened off on the top where the beam comes through from the attic and supports the bargeboard. And there are other things about his massing and his window types that we could recognize. Hart House on Fairfield Place is the biggest and the best of the E.E. Green designed homes in
Victoria. Craftsman homes have wide eaves, exposed rafter ends, heavy beams on the front porch, oriental looking themes, massing, rocks, clinker bricks, and all sorts of other wonderful Arts and Crafts features."

Jennifer’s research uncovered the house’s past. Its first owners were George and Mary Jane Leach, but the house changed hands within a year and was rented out for over twenty years, at least three times by ministers from the big churches on Quadra. Then the Tong Yens bought the house in 1937. They were well known Victorians, with greenhouses and a thriving flower and vegetable business  in the 700 Block Fort Street. Jennifer contacted the daughter, Anita Chow, and Ms. Chow provided a
lot of information about the house’s history, along with those wonderful photos which showed the outside of the house before the infamous stucco was added.

An Austrian family were the next owners, operating it as a rooming house until the mid seventies, when it suffered a decline, sitting empty for a while and suffering a break in before it passed on to its next owners, Randy and Christine Cheveldave. A movie production manager now living and working in Vancouver, Randy actually used the dining room of the house for a movie starring James Garner (Glitter Dome). Christine Cheveldave is a horticulturist of no small repute. It was
from this couple that the Barrs purchased the house.

The Barrs were dedicated and avid collectors well before they bought this place to accommodate their collections: children’s books from the 1920’s, copies of the Craftsman  magazines going back to 1914, and many wonderful period pieces now have a ideal niche in this 2000 square foot home, perfectly furnished to complement both the collections and the house’s style.

The efforts they went to to get their house just right are amazing. Jennifer believes a good thing is worth waiting for, and will wait as long as necessary.  It took them 18 years to find just the right double bed for the bedroom, an Arts and Crafts piece they were overjoyed to find at Lunds  last March. "We still have a long way to go to get this house just the way we want it," Jennifer tells me, and I have a strong feeling this is a lifetime project.
Then she describes their search to find a carpet for the den. They couldn’t find exactly the right colour and wound up buying five different carpets at various auctions before they finally found the exact colour and texture match they needed. They just couldn’t know for sure until they got it home and tried it! Their exacting standards paid off. That den rug is exactly right.

Entering the house, the dining room is to the left, and the living room to the right, complete with a grand fireplace and furnished in American Arts and Crafts style.

"It’s common in Arts and Crafts houses to have a sitting bench by the fireplace," Jennifer points out as we enter this room. "But we were gypped", she smiles, "There’s no sitting bench in ours. And no picture rail in the hallway, either. There usually is." Another Arts and Crafts feature though,  lots of built in cabinets and shelves, they do have. Like that wonderful sideboard in the formal dining room that I admired.

The den, with its famous rug, is behind the living room. Because Arts and Crafts chairs aren’t necessarily cozy, the Barrs have cheated a little in there and ensconced two comfy family heirloom chairs, one coming from each side of their family.  The half bath downstairs has been beautifully restored, with wonderful nautical tiles, modern reproductions of William De Morgan designs. "I traded a week of work for those tiles at CHARLES RUPERT: THE SHOP." Jennifer tells
me.  She considers it a good trade to get just the look she wants. The tiny sink is the original.

The kitchen gets short shrift from Jennifer. It’s still on the "to be completed" list, so we head upstairs to check out the three bedrooms and enormous bathroom.  It has the original Edwardian ball foot bathtub, Anaglypta wallpaper from Britain that’s been meticulously painted a seablue green, and reddish brown woodwork. The ceiling and wall above the waitscoting is ochre "It’s wonderful to lie in that bathtub with this all around you," Jennifer enthuses,
and I believe her.

I’m curious as to the changes they had to make to restore the interior.
They put back the wainscoting which had been taken out because earlier occupants had thought the dining room was too dark, she tells me, and then the Barrs put up burlap wallpaper, which was commonly used in that period.

"We brought it back from England, 4 double rolls for $13…an absolute bargain. Then we took four years to come up with the tone of colour we wanted.  (Chinese red underneath with a browny maroon over top). You can see the one through the other. That is a very traditional colour for wainscoting. We had to take the boards down and put them back. We like things dark. The Arts and Crafts Movement tends to be dark rather than light, but rich rich colours."  

It took six years to find a set of four lights for the crossing of the beams in the dining room ceiling. The original lights had long since disappeared, and according to Jennifer in those days electricity was such a novelty and lights so soft that home owners were proud to display naked light bulbs.  

Their trips to England usually resulted in the Barrs staggering home with suitcases clinking with tiles and bulging with Liberty fabric and pressed wallpaper. The fireplace tiles were transported in this way, a labour of love. Much of their wallpaper and fabric came via the suitcases as well. Jennifer shows me that the border on her living room wallpaper is Liberty and matches the curtains, in an imitation William Morris design. Credited with being the Founder and the Godhead of the Arts
and Crafts Movement, Morris died in 1886.

Although some storm windows have been added to the front of the house, all of the window sash is original. "The old glass is still in some of the windows too. The ones with the wavy lines." Storm windows were traditional for those times, although they were much thinner for the more moderate west coast. It’s marvelous how those windows cut down on outside noise, I notice.

Carpets were ripped out on the stairs in the main rooms and in the hallway to uncover the original wood, oak with mahogany trim. The rest of the woodwork is fir. The original heating system is still in place, hot water heated by an oil furnace, and circulating in bronzed radiators. "It’s wonderful heat, very clean and thorough," Jennifer assures me.

The house reflects their love of the Arts and Crafts Movement, combining the British and American Movements. Its design, finishing and furnishings have created a living museum of the period. The Barrs think that they found this house, but I wager the house found them. It shines and smurks in every corner.

Hiking the Wonderland Trail

  
     

A peak experience on Mount Rainier

One hundred feet above the chasm, the Tahoma Creek suspension bridge
hung, narrow, 250 feet across, and swaying.

No good telling me that it was perfectly safe and had recently been improved. I love hiking but
I have a raging and irrational fear of heights. This, then, was my nemesis, encountered on Day
Four of our ten day, ninety three mile hike. I had dreaded this encounter from the start, hoping
that somehow desperation would get me across, or that the bridge wouldn’t be this high, or this
frail looking, or that a miracle would waft me across.

Because If I couldn’t get over this, it was retreat. End of hike. Maybe
end of marriage, as my husband, David, likes hiking more than Love itself.

It took two hours. Two hours of pacing, striding up to the bridge, starting over, backing up just
where the chasm fell away. Finally, I fixed my eyes on a large boulder high on the other side, squeezed
my terror into my stomach,  and advanced! I knew once I had begun, I would have to
carry on. There was certainly no possibility of turning around.

This was my personal triumph on the trail, so I’ve started here, even
though it wasn’t the beginning point of

our early September adventure.  The high from confronting and overcoming this
fear carried me through the rest of the trail.

We’ve done a lot of hiking over the years, primarily in Strathcona Park on
Vancouver Island, on the Olympic Peninsula, and in the Coastal mountains, but this was only the second
time we had ever hiked for over a week. Almost every day you’re staring at a different
vista of Mt. Rainier.

You feel close enough to reach out and touch it. Some days you hike alongside glaciers,
stare down at icefields, across at waterfalls, and always you’re alongside this incredible
volcano, seeing it from a different angle every day - weather permitting.

You pay for this experience, however. The Wonderland Trail isn’t the easiest hike in
the world. On that momentous fourth day, for example, in addition to crossing
the suspension bridge, there were two big climbs, a mountain ridge to straddle and
 two steep descents. That’s a total of eleven miles and a gain and loss of
almost 4000′ each way, which makes for a long day!

On other hikes, we might climb that much in a day, but then we would make it a short hike,
 only five miles or so, and camp up on the summit.  Here on the Wonderland Trail,
however, that’s only the morning warm-up!

And there is have no choice. Because of its immense popularity, the Mt. Rainier hike must
be booked when you arrive in the park. A computer assisted ranger selects nightly camps for
you, based on how many days you want to take. (Super-hikers can do it in eight days, and
more leisurely hikers take two weeks.) It also depends where you start from.
There are only so many camps along the trail, and you can’t just camp anywhere. You
must make it to
your designated campsite - stiff knees or not.

We’re used to choosing our own spot when we’re ready to stop, and we prefer to camp on our own.
We also aren’t allowed campfires, and evenings without the warmth and light of a fire really do
feel a bit chilly. However, we still recommend the hike - highly. It’s worth sacrificing
choice, solitude and campfire for the vistas you’ll encounter on this trail.

The longest day we hiked was that infamous Day Four; the shortest was Day One, when we simply
headed four miles downhill from Sunset visitors’ centre to spend the first night at a "
frontcountry" campsite at White River. ("Frontcountry" referring to the
fact that it’s accessible by car.) Most days we averaged about nine miles on a well marked
trail, with regular mileage indicators, clear route signs and sturdy log bridges.

The trail passes through all of the major life zones in the park, from lowland forests of douglas-fir
and hemlock, past rivers, up to subalpine meadows with wildfowers and glaciers everywhere you look.
The flowers were resplendent and for some lucky reason the bugs were conspicuous in their
absence during our late summer visit. Maybe garlic really DOES work! We ate a lot
of it.

Interested? Then the first step is to get to a ranger’s station, which you can find at four different
entry points, because you must have a permit listing each campsite. You have twenty
one to choose from and the ranger will help you select them, based on availability, your entry point,
and the number of days you have to do the trail.  You must book in person, and you can’t do it
in advance. The visitor centers at Sunrise and at Paradise also have all the
information you’ll need: maps, weather reports, relief maps showing the trails and ranges,
books, and even some basic supplies and fuel.

Our favourite campsite was the one at Mystic Lake, and in spite of the warning that there
were bears in camp, we never saw one. The lake is blue, surprisingly warm, and full of trout.
It also mirrors Mt. Rainier perfectly, helped by the expansive blue sky and total solitude on the
day we were there.

Our other favourite was Golden Lakes. We were wrapped in fog there, but it cleared long enough
for us to see that we were perched in the sky, overlooking one of the largest of the lakes.
 We could imagine that on a clear day this would be outstanding, but not with sleepwalkers
or small children, as the drop is sudden and steep.

For those of you considering treating yourself to this hike of a lifetime, here’s some information
that might help persuade your partner.

  • You can cache food and clothes at various ranger stations first so you don’t have to carry food
    for more than a few days at a time. We stopped food off off at Longmire first. We
    reached it on the third day of our hike. Be sure to have this extra food in a mouse proof container.
  • It can be reassuring to know that at most points you are never actually that far from civilization.
    If you tire, for example, or the weather turns really foul, it’s usually possible to abandon the
    hike, get to a road and hitchhike back to your car in the same day. It can also be reassuring
    to know that your whereabouts are known at all times. On one night, for example, we were
    awoken at midnight by a ranger who has looking for a hiker who hadn’t come out at the
    scheduled time. The ranger had come in from the nearest station, ten miles away, and hiked
    on through the night until he found the hiker, a young Japanese tourist who had lost his party
    and wound up spending the night with a man and his son.

Persuaded? Then here are a few tips to help you plan for next summer.

  • travel light!
    What always amazes me on hikes is the weight people inflict on themselves. It’s unnecessary to carry
    forty pounds. My ideal pack weight is between twenty-five to thirty pounds, and David hovers
    around thirty two because he gets the tent. That’s a comfortable weight and you can carry it
    without undue discomfort. To me, a light pack makes all the difference between enjoying a
    hike and enduring it. (Or you can always hire a Llama to carry your load!)

 

  • wear good water-proof boots that have been broken in.
    This seemed to be the year of the hiking sandal, but even though I looked enviously at people wearing
    them on the trail, I was glad I decided to stick with my heavy leather boots because of the ankle
    support, the toe protection, (I’m always stumbling on rocks, especially at the end of the day) and
    the warmth. Traversing snow is not fun in sandals either! I do carry lightweight ones
    to give my feet a rest at the end of each day, but I’ve decided not to abandon my trusty
    heavy hiking boots yet.

 

  • don’t take tins or bottles - you really don’t have to - as they add a lot of weight and you have to
    carry them out. We allow about one and a half pounds of food per day for two, and eliminate
    all the packaging we can beforehand.

 

  • avoid strong smelling meats such as salted fish, bacon, salami, etc., in favour of cheese or meat
    substitutes, as the former attract bears. I’m convinced that being vegetarians has helped us
    avoid  nocturnal visits from bruins. Don’t sleep in the clothes you’ve cooked in, either.
    At some of the more populated campsites there are "bear wires" to hang your
    food from which you should use. Otherwise you need to find a good limb yourself to hang it
    from. We had one chipmunk party in our pack one night, but fortunately were able to spare those
    peanuts. There has never been a troublesome bear encounter between hikers and bears on Mt.
    Rainier, by the way, so don’t worry unduly.

 

  • have some knowledge of mushrooms, wild greens and berries that are edible. It sure helps brighten
    up those meals. The blueberries and blue huckleberries on this hike were plentiful and big
    and made pablum in the morning taste a whole lot better. ( I know it’s disgusting, but that
    babyfood is well fortified and VERY light.) We also brightened up a rainy night with a feed
    of King Boletus mushrooms.

If you’re interested but not sure you’re ready for the whole trip, read on for details and options.
The main thing is - go, whether you hike or not.

 

Sidebar:

How to get there: Drive to Seattle, then take highway #161 South to Elbe and then East on highway
70. The park is about an hour and a half drive from Seattle.

Accommodation. Popular lodges are at Longmire and Paradise, and three regular campsites are
found at White River, Cougar Rock and Ohanapecosh (avoid this one unless you have a self contained
camper. (The mice really party there at night.) There are also two primitive campsites
accessible by dirt roads: Mowich River and Carbon River campsites.
When to go. Early September after the Labour day weekend is the best choice, in my books.
It’s less busy and usually the weather is more dependable. The second choice is
late August. July is very busy, the bugs are often bad, and there’s a lot more snow to slip
around in.
Cost. This is the best part. It’s five dollars to enter the park, and if you do the
whole trail, you may have to pay twice, as the permit is only good for a week. Hiking is free, and
believe me - if you never even leave the car, the scenery and facilities will make you very glad
you live close to the border. The campgrounds are only $9.00 and the primitive ones are free.
Showers are available at Paradise’s visitor’s centre, for a quarter. Avoid
late afternoon as showers get busy then.

 

Options:

1. Adventurous? Then climb to the summit of Mt. Rainier or up on the glaciers. You
can spend the night at Camp Muir, at 10,000′, and attain the summit the next day. Prior to the
climb, you must assure the rangers that you know what you’re doing, or you can also sign up to learn
on the mountain in a climbing class led by a ranger. (Just before we arrived, three rangers had
been killed trying to rescue climbers in this area, so believe me, this is for the hardy only.)

2. A more gentle option is to hike just a section of the Wonderland Trail, or walk in for the
day from a campsite. If you do decide to just do a day’s walk I’d highly recommend camping at
Carbon River, a primitive campsite accessible by dirt road, and walking to Dick Creek. This
walk is along an old road for three miles, then a narrow trail along Carbon River, to another less
frightening suspension bridge. You’ll start climbing for a mile once you cross the bridge,
but will have a terrific view of Carbon Glacier, literally just yards from the trail, as well as of
Mt. Rainier Summit. I don’t know any comparatively easy day walk that rewards you so well!
The round trip is about nine miles.

3. Or - if your idea of a hike is walking to the hot tub, then head for Sunrise and soak in
the view from there. I’ve never been on a road that gives you such views and gets you
so close to the attractions while still in a vehicle. Just don’t plan to do it in an hour,
though. The road around the park is winding, narrow, and scenic. There’ll be lots
of motorists perhaps even more entranced than you. Short walks in the alpine meadows lead
off from
here, and there’s washrooms, food, and information.

April 22nd, 2009 | Category: Features | 5 comments

Someone’s Coming

Beautiful BC Traveller Magazine
          text by Cherie Thiessen

Top ten skinny-dipping holes of B.C.

I dive for cover behind some rocks. My mother, a dignified 75, smiles
serenely at the startled couple who have just arrived and are cowering
behind their picnic hamper, and invites them in for a dip. Not used to
seeing such brazen nudity, they decline and beat a hasty retreat. I come
out from my hiding place, full of admiration for Mother’s unwavering
nerve. She and I have been skinny-dipping since I was a child. We
continue splashing and giggling in the chilly waters of the Englishman
River, then decide to move farther downriver to a more remote area.

The problem with telling people about the “best places” is that as soon
as you do, those places are no longer private. It¹s a quandary, but like
seagulls, we humans love to squawk about a good thing, though inevitably
we bring others flocking. So, given the opportunity to write about the
10 best places to skinny-dip in southern British Columbia, I was
delighted to do it, even knowing there may be more bare bodies in my
favourite spots next year.

The criteria I used for selection were natural beauty, warm water, and
local tolerance for “over exposure.” Most spots are therefore located in
parks. Finally, I’ve chosen locations for variety: some are easy to get
to, some require more effort; some are quiet and some more public; some
are lakes, some are rivers; some are sulphurous and one is briny.

The spots are scattered across southern British Columbia, from Vancouver
Island to the Gulf Islands, from the mainland to the Interior. Of
course, there are many more that only you know about and probably
won’t share but here are those I chose, in order of preference.

 

1. HOT SPRINGS COVE, MAQUINNA PROVINCIAL PARK

Purists will be very happy with Hot Springs Cove, north of Tofino on
Vancouver Island’s west coast. At the site, there’s not a hint of
anything manmade except for melted wax on some of the boulders, traces
of candlelight soaks. To enter the pools you first have to pass under
the hot springs as they cool and cascade over the rocks.
(Rubber-bottomed aquashoes are a big help here.)

These three pools, each snugly accommodating up to four bathers, lie
between large boulders where seaweed and icy salt water mix with the hot
sulphur springs. The ocean tumbles nearby, and at high tide the waves
roll in to cool down the pools, making you feel as if you’re surfing.
When you’re not bobbing or soaking, you’ll be sitting high on the rocks
overlooking the open ocean and watching for grey whales. Sublime! The
guidebook Hotsprings of Western Canada gives this spot four stars and
rates it as “tops.”

You probably won’t have paradise to yourself, though, unless you come in
winter. Up to eight Tofino companies offer trips to the cove in remote
Maquinna Provincial Marine Park, accessible only by boat or floatplane.
Visiting yachts and fishing boats sometimes tie up at the dock, and there’s a well-maintained campsite in the park. The 1.5-kilometre
boardwalk to the springs makes for great reading: many planks are carved
with names of boats and skippers and other interesting messages

The regular water taxi from Tofino costs $60 return. Sightseeing boats,
which sometimes throw in whale watching, charge $75. Floatplanes make
the trip for about $700 a plane-load.

 

2. HALFWAY RIVER HOT SPRINGS, UPPER ARROW LAKE

These sylvan hot springs are located on Crown land off Highway 23 in the
West Kootenay, about one hour’s drive north of Nakusp and about 10
kilometres along a disused logging road. You can get specific directions
at the Nakusp Chamber of Commerce. Halfway River Hot Springs is one of
my favourite skinny-dipping holes because of its remote, natural
location on the banks of the river, with no nearby roads or buildings.
There’s a pristine little campsite here, too, very rarely used.

There are two pools at Halfway River, the first totally manmade, and the
second snugly adapted to the boulders. At the second, you can cool off
in the tumbling river just beside you, or adjust the temperature of your
pool by adding a bucket of cold water. I’ve been tempted to put a sign
out at the furthest pool “Warning: skinny-dipping in progress” but until
I do, we take our suits along in case shyer soakers show up. Only one
hazard lots of poison ivy!

 

3. PRIDEAUX HAVEN, DESOLATION SOUND

No discussion of skinny-dipping holes can leave out Desolation Sound
Provincial Marine Park, though it’s accessible only by boat.
Surprisingly warm water can be found here close to the junction of the
major tidal streams, up to 24 C!

In the height of summer, Prideaux Haven is jammed with boats, with
little room to anchor let alone skinny-dip, but in late spring or early
fall I love it here. After anchoring, you can take your dinghy and
disappear into one of the many little tidal coves for some serious
intertidal exploration and skinny-dipping. There are many places in
Desolation Sound to bare your soul and body, but here the water is soupy
warm and a beautiful colour, perhaps because of the shell bottom, and
the boulders ensure privacy. Be sure to wear aquashoes, as spiky
crustaceans can be plentiful depending on the tide, and don’t sit down
without looking!

 

4. ST. AGNES WELL, PEMBERTON

One of the Skookumchuk Hot Springs, named after the nearby old native
village, this delightful site is within a day’s drive of Vancouver. St.
Agnes Well is a monument to human ingenuity. Under a cedar A-frame there’s a wonderful large tub improvised from half a large tank, with
taps that let bathers adjust the mix of water from the hot and cold
springs. Outside, there’s a shower rigged up in the trees, and a smaller
open-air bathtub. At any time, you can expect a mix of bathing and
birthday suits. If you want uninterrupted privacy, try going early in
the morning or mid-week in late fall.

This particular spring is rated in the Hotsprings of Western Canada as
four-star and one of the province’s finest. It’s on private land, and is
maintained by the B.C. Forest Service. There’s a rustic campsite on the
premises, so moonlight soaks and early morning dips are possible.

From Vancouver, you drive to Pemberton and then to Mount Currie, turning
right on the dirt road that follows Lillooet Lake. The hot springs are a
54-kilometre drive from here. The turnoff to the springs is on the right
by the number 682 on the electricity pole. If you have a 4×4 vehicle,
you can do a circular route back to Vancouver by carrying on along the
road to Harrison Lake, stopping to pan for gold in the Lillooet River or
to sleuth out more hot springs en route. 

 

5. SOOKE POTHOLES PROVINCIAL PARK

Many islanders are familiar with this summer favourite, located just
north of Sooke off Highway 14 on southeast Vancouver Island. A good road
on the right takes you five kilometres to the parking lot. This area may
be busy, but don’t despair, the Sooke River will reward you. It
contains many private pools farther along. You can walk a short distance
to a gate that’s signed “Private Property” and find secluded spots
beyond (near the site of an abandoned, unfinished resort overlooking a
waterfall), but I recommend taking the nearer trail on the right, just
past the bridge. You can clamber up to several pools from here and find
your own private spot.

Another option, for hikers or cyclists, is to take the leg of the
Galloping Goose Trail that runs just above the road. About three
kilometres past the historic Barnes railway station there¹s a section of
the river with beautiful pools, sheltered from the trail and from the
road on the river’s other side. I especially like this skinny-dipping
hole because I can combine it with cycling, which lets me get well away
from the crowds. It’s also a great way too cool off after all that
exertion, in deep clear water surrounded by small waterfalls and
boulders. Just remember that road on the other side. You may not realize
it¹s there until you disrobe and suddenly hear cars braking!

 

6. ENGLISHMAN RIVER FALLS PROVINCIAL PARK

This river has one exception to my criteria: the water’s not warm. It
really is wonderfully invigorating, though, on a hot summer day. The
water is beautifully clear and green, and the surrounding forest is
shared by pileated woodpeckers and warblers. You’ll soon forget about
the chill. Honest.

Englishman River Falls Provincial Park is 10 kilometres off the
Vancouver Island Highway, near Coombs. The park is at the end of the
road, and offers great camping. Drive down to the picnic area, and head
over the bridge that overlooks Englishman River Falls. Then turn right. There’s a directional sign here that shows the trail. The farther down
the path you¹re willing to walk, the greater your reward.

The spot where the couple interrupted my mother and me was 10 minutes
along the path, just past the last picnic table. After the surprise, we
scrambled another 10 minutes along the trail, crossing a logging area,
and found complete privacy. 

 

7. HAGUE LAKE, CORTES ISLAND

This gentle blue lake with its white sand and crystal waters is on one
of the most beautiful of the northern Gulf Islands. Driving from the
ferry (you’ll have to make two crossings: from Campbell River to Quadra
Island, and Quadra to Cortes), take the well-signed road to Smelt Bay. You’ll see a sign and a parking lot for Hague Lake just before the
T-junction to Mansons Landing Provincial Marine Park. Take the trail to
the beach, and then head left along the shore for a few minutes, until
some discarded clothing signals the skinny-dipping spot. It’s also
accessible by a path from the road. This area is not as sandy, but the water’s warm and the boulders offer privacy and are very comfortable for
sunbathing.

One note of caution: beware of swimmer’s itch. They say dosing your body
with oil will help keep the itch at bay, but I can’t attest to it. I’m
always too impatient and charge right in.

 

8. PRIOR LAKE, GREATER VICTORIA

So far I’ve assumed you want a private skinny-dipping hole, but let¹s
assume you’re more sociable. If Wreck Beach in Vancouver is your idea of
a great place to skinny-dip, here’s another.

This shy little lake is warm and fringed with lily pads, and has a
wooden dock for diving and sunbathing. If you want company, go on a hot summer’s afternoon; if you want privacy, try it early in the morning, or
in the fall. The water is so warm it won¹t be a hardship. When I arrived
last summer at 6 a.m., I had the place to myself. The mist steaming on
the lake assured me it was warmer than the air. It was.

You can drive to Prior Lake on a short dirt road, but don’t expect
Tourism Victoria to give you directions to this unoffically acknowledged
nudist lake. Many locals don’t even know it exists. It’s behind Thetis
Lake Park. Follow Watkiss Way past Riverside Ridge Housing Development,
near the new Colwood underpass. From here, the road’s unpaved and the
lake is only minutes away.

 

9. CASTLE CREEK, MANNING PROVINCIAL PARK

You’re driving along Highway 3 on your way to Aunt Mabel’s in the
Okanagan. The engine’s beginning to overheat and so are you. Good time
for a skinny-dip in some of that cool-looking water you’ve been
following. It’s Castle Creek, and at the junction of the creek and the
Similkameen River, there¹s a wonderful, sparkling jade swimming hole
just waiting for you.

This beautiful spot offers maximum privacy for minimum time and effort.
The water is cool without being icy cold, and its colour is gorgeous. It’s located on one of Manning Park’s many hiking trails; if you want to
stretch your legs a little more after your swim, continue along the
trail over the bridge to Boyd¹s Meadow, about 15 minutes away.

To reach this refreshing site, drive 3.5 kilometres east of Manning Park
Lodge, and turn right at the trailhead marked Mon. 78-83. Park here and
take the trail by the gate. After a pleasant five-minute walk, you’ll
come to an old bridge. You’ve arrived! On the left is the jade pool, the
only deep swimming hole to be seen on this shallow creek.

 

10. ROE LAKE, NORTH PENDER ISLAND

Roe Lake in the Malahat Properties is a relatively recent
provincial-park acquisition, one that delighted many Pender Islanders as
it protects their last natural lake from development. A 215-hectare
forest surrounds this warm and very private little lake. There’s not a
sign of civilization as you slip into the water.

This is a quieter swimming hole than Hague Lake on Cortes Island because it’s lesser known. To get there, you turn right on Otter Bay Road,
coming from the ferry, and pass the lovely property called Roesland.
Take a right turn uphill on Shingle Bay Road and park at the top of the
hill. (After your dip, you might like to continue on this old road. It’ll take you down to Shingle Bay, where there’s a pretty little public
park.) There’s no sign, but you’ll see an old road heading uphill on the
left. A five-minute walk is all that’s left.

This lake gets full marks for privacy and natural beauty, but I’ve put
it last because there’s no beach area or easy access into the water.
Also, the shallow lake isn’t very clear. It’s very warm, however. Which
would you rather have?

Well, there you have it. My 10 favourites. Happy dipping, but keep your
eyes open for my mother. If she¹s there first, she’ll stand her ground.

April 22nd, 2009 | Category: Features | One comment

10 Places to see Spectacular Sunsets

Pacific Yachting
          text and photography by Cherie Thiessen

Sunset watching in paradise

Anywhere the promise of a beautiful sunset presents itself there is a hush over
the land and sea, people momentarily pause and life stills.

Sunsets are works of art. While you cannot create the art, you can select the frame.

Last summer I dedicated myself to the arduous task of choosing ten settings in which to indulge this
favourite past time of boaters. Here is my modest list of super sunset sites.

When selecting these,
I categorized them to give seafarers a choice: from energetic to easy, from private to party time, from
cozy to convenient, from pampered to pristine.

1. Sunset for Beachcombers and Bird watchers - Montague Harbour, Galiano Island.

Almost everyone’s number one favourite is probably the sunset viewed from the sandy beach at Montague Harbour,
judging from the people who gather there nightly.  This has got to rank as one of the best and most convenient
spots to see a sunset.  You can anchor or tie up at a mooring buoy at the marine park and take your dinghy to
shore.  A short walk through the campsite or across the lagoon and you are there. A wide expanse of clamshell
beach makes for inspired beachcombing while you await the sunset.

There are many shells and sea creatures to observe in the nearby rock pools and birds to study in the tidal marshes and forest. The belted kingfisher loves to take up watch on the dead trees, and bufflehead ducks enjoy wriggling snacks while waiting for the sunset.

Should you desire to be alone to watch the sun’s departure, you can walk for a long way along the beach or upper forest trail to find a perfect private spot.  Wherever
you decide on, you will have an unobstructed view down Trincomali Channel. We have rarely been disappointed in the sunset from this popular but magical location.        

more…

 

2. Sunset for energetic lovers - Roesland, Otter Bay on North Pender.


In order to see this sunset, your best bet is to spend the night at popular Otter Bay Marina. Good
holding ground is available in the bay as well, but the passing ferries make this anchorage sometimes
uncomfortable. At least half an hour before sunset you should begin your pilgrimage. You’ll save
kilometers of walking by rowing across the bay. The key word here is "rowing" -
engines are just not romantic. It’ll take you about 15 minutes. Alight at a tiny beach
beyond the little bridge at Roesland. From here it’s obvious. Walk through to the point where
you’ll find a perfectly positioned solitary seat. You can also go further out to the rocks and watch
from the very tip of the point.

There’s a path back to the road if you have time and feel in the mood for a quiet
forest stroll. This beautiful and still largely undiscovered area is all part of Roesland, which became
a marine park 3 years ago. The genial previous owners still live here. Years ago they ran Roesland as a
resort and you’ll see the old cabins as well as the remains of an old native canoe. Please
respect their privacy when passing by their home.

3. Sunset for families, Sidney Spit

You don’t even need to stir off your boat in order to enjoy the sun setting over the Saanich Peninsula.
However, if you have active children aboard, take them ashore and to the top of the
bluff. Often Mt. Baker blushes a soft pink across Haro Strait, seemingly close
enough to touch. Check it out and then do the two kilometer circular walk to see
if you can spot the fallow deer found here, or the peacocks. They seem to like sunsets
as much as we do, and there’s a good
chance the children may spot them and it’ll make their day. Then check out Mt. Baker again
on your way back to the boat, the hot toddies, and those final fiery views from the cockpit.

4. Sunset for lazy lovers - Winter Cove , Saturna

Drop your anchor, break out the bubbly, get cozy in the cockpit and face west. No need to stir in order
to see the sun dropping over Mayne Island. The nice thing about Winter Cove is that it never seems to be
too busy, even in summer, and there’s that great trail through to narrow Boat Passage where the whole
of Georgia Strait seems to be trying to take refuge in the Gulf Islands when the ebb tide is at its
fullest. While the point is a beautiful place to snuggle up on the seat , in
all honesty the sunset is better from the boat, as nearby Samuel Island obscures the sun’s final
moments. Up to you.

5. Sunset for sky watchers - Cabbage Island Marine Park

This anchorage on the Strait of Georgia is exposed to NW winds. Be sure to check your barometer and
weather forecast before overnighting here, or you may experience more than a great sunset. In
perfect conditions this park is heavenly. Due to its open aspect you have a vast sky with a
more panoramic view than most anchorages offer. After you’ve watched the sun settle into the
Straits you can set up your telescope or kick back and watch the shooting stars, the satellites
and the planets in this quiet anchorage, without any nearby lights to distract you, and all this from
the comfort of your boat. Every 11 years, increased solar activity makes for more interesting
sky shows, and guess what - this is the year! Sky watchers may even get glimpses of the aurora
borealis this summer.

6. Sunset for ferry watchers and swimmers - Portland Island


Drop your anchor at this popular anchorage behind the Tortoise Islets. Row to the dinghy dock and
follow the trail to your left. Full sunsets may be obscured by Salt spring Island, but this
location is included because it’s such an enjoyable kilometer and a half walk to the point. The
clamshell beach opposite Chads Island is a great swimming spot and you may even have it to
yourself. Afterward, warm up at a beach fire, fires permitting, have a hot drink from
your
thermos at a picnic table, look for agates, pick cherries in season and watch all the ferries
chugging past on their way to and fro Swartz Bay. Arbutus and fruit trees, shell beaches
and grasslands, make this a honey of a spot and although it’s a campsite, I have rarely seen
anyone camping here. So enjoy the glow of the sunset and wave to those envious passengers
on the ferries.

7. Sunset for gourmets - Rosario, Orcas Island, San Juans.

We can’t leave out our southern neighbours, who share these beautiful inland waters with us and who
know how to make the most of it. Rosario is tops for many reasons but as dock space is limited,
it’s important to reserve ahead. Frugal sunset chasers are welcome too, as the resort’s mooring
buoys are now free. Be warned, however, that you must make your own way ashore, and that the
winds often get funneled down East Sound at night, sometimes making moorage at these buoys
uncomfortable.

May I recommend the view from Rosario’s Compass Room? The meals and service just get better and better.
While it’s true that the dining room is not west facing, does it really matter all that much
once the Sound and sky turns pink outside your picture window and the pan roasted Chinook salmon
is served. If you really want to see that sun disappear, all you have to do is delay your coffee
and dessert, and head out to the bluff right beside the restaurant where weddings are often
photographed in the sun’s final golden moments. Pretty awesome wouldn’t you say? Now back to
the warm apple tart with cinamon ice cream.

8. Sunset for tri-athletes. - Reid Harbour - Stuart Island - San Juans


You really need to be an athlete to get the best sunset view from this marine park but as with most
things, the reward is worth the effort. Tie up at the dock or a mooring buoy in Prevost
Harbour, then pack your bottled water in your knapsack, along with your bathing suit and jump in
your dinghy. Row like an Olympic oarsman to the county dock, about a kilometer.  Now
jog up the road and follow the signs to the lighthouse, about 2 kilometers away. Because
the
distance deters boaters, you may well find you have the point to yourself. It’s a beautiful
spot looking north over the Penders and offers an unobstructed view of the sun sinking. Dolphins
nd killer whales love the tidal action around these waters, so look closely for them too. History
buffs will also enjoy exploring and reading the placards that tell the history of this lighthouse
and its outbuildings, once home to the lighthouse keeper and his family. If you linger too
late you will definitely be needing your flashlight on your return. But this sunset is for triathletes,
remember, so when you get back to the dinghy it’s time for your partner to row. You’ll be
swimming alongside! The water is not too cold, and the swim to the marine dock will be
energizing. Remember to moor on the Prevost Harbour side, though, because you will have a lot
farther to walk from the Reid Harbour side and your swim could become a marathon.

9. Sunset for gamblers - Fisherman’s Bay, Lopez Island. - San Juan Islands


Gamblers will love this spot and I’m not referring to casinos. If it’s your first visit, you will
be kept busy lining up your markers. Be sure to read about the entrance and consult your
charts beforehand, but there is 6′ of water under you at zero tide, honest. It’s not a gamble.

So what is? This bay is a real sunset teaser. Although we have been blown away several
times with the beauty and magnitude of sunsets here, on the evening we arrived with cameras to
capture the setting splendor,  it was reticent to reveal itself.  We were ready to
dunk the next Lopez Island resident who said "You should have been here last night
." It remains for you to discover it, but should you encounter a sunset no-show,
there is much to
compensate. Take your dinghy back through the channel to explore the derelict herring boats  or
take a short jaunt into town to enjoy a great meal in the restaurants.

You can anchor in the bay but I recommend tying up at the marinas so that if the gamble doesn’t pay
off you don’t have far to go to console yourself. The Islander offers hot tubs along
with good moorage, and the genial bartender helped keep our spirits up on the chilly night we took
up vigil with our cameras by delivering excellent Irish Coffees to our positions on the dock!

10. Sunsets for people watchers - Sucia Island - San Juans


With its two snug anchorages, Sucia is a sweet little marine park. The best sunset and people watching
is at Shallow Bay, indenting the west end of the horseshoe-shaped Island. There are mooring
buoys here and good anchorage and the sunset over the sandy beaches and headlands can be spectacular
but beware the depths! Enter the bay with caution, watching for the submerged rocks on either
side, and check your charts carefully before furling your flag. It’s not called
Shallow Bay for nothing. If you draw too much water, there’s always Fossil Bay, but part of the
pleasure at Sucia is people watching and if you have a sadistic streak, you’ll want to take your drin
k top sides and watch the boats hitting the rocks, running out of ocean, or bumping into the docks,
while the first mate, usually female, tries to leap 7 feet to the wharf and the captain usually
male, yells "What are you waiting for, jump, damnit!" If you tear
yourself away from this action long enough, you may be able to see an awesome sunset over the Strait
of Georgia.

That’s it! Keep your eyes on the skies and think pink!

April 22nd, 2009 | Category: Features | Leave a comment

Going in Circles

Marco Polo Magazine
          text and photography by Cherie Thiessen

Canal boating in Great Britain

There is no way in the world that Red Duke is going to get through that gap under
the bridge. Oh dear.

"Can you see the boat coming toward you?" My husband David, is trying to be
casual but not quite succeeding. "There’s no room for two boats to pass under that
bridge, you know!


No kidding!

I holler to our friends relaxing in the galley before their turn to sweat comes up.
"Hang on to your coffee!" Then I throw the

gear

into reverse, rev up the engine so the whole boat convulses, and ever so slowly shimmy
to a halt.

The only problem is that the front is starting to skew around to the opposite side of
the bank now, effectively barricading the whole canal. A few curious cows start
trotting hopefully down to the bank to see if we’re offering handouts.

"Here you take it." He knew I was going to say that. I retreat
into the cabin for coffee and concealment. We had originally thought the standard
7′ width of these boats was ridiculously narrow. It’s not narrow enough!

Canal boating on the Oxford Canal in

England’s south midland country is fun, believe it or not. It’s more than fun, it’s a personal
development and crisis management course thrown in. This canal is one of England’s most historic
and picturesque waterways.  Finished in 1790, it was for many years an important commercial
artery as horse drawn barges carried goods from towns like Banbury to Braunston, from Oxford to
Coventry. Now the activity centres around recreational canal boaters, gypsies and tourists who
rent and panic in
canal boats from the many shipyards en route.

The four of us rented our 46′ canal boat from Red Line Cruisers at Eynsham on the Thames for
two weeks last

September, when the charter prices dip considerably along with the traffic on
the canals. It was something we always wanted to do, to experience a small slice of Britain
on our own canal boat with good friends. While you can charter deluxe boats with soaker tubs,
washer and driers, carpets, central heating and you get the picture, ours was more basic.

We wanted a boat that we could handle comfortably, and 46′ seemed plenty long enough.
We needed private
space for two couples to fight, and Red Duke, which slept six, gave us this. It
wasn’t new, and it didn¹t have all the bells and whistles, but we had a shower, toilet and holding
tank, a propane fridge, four burner stove, oven and grill, a TV we never looked at, a dinette
that sat four, and best of all, spacious stern and bow space. Sitting in front was wonderful, 46′
back from the noisy engine and the ongoing crises at the tiller. Red Duke was
battle scarred, something that didn’t please us at first, until we realized how she got that
way. Then we were relieved. How to tell what carnage was new and which wasn’t?

 

We spent our first night at the boatyard, stocking up on groceries, getting lessons from
the proprietor, buying our license for operating in the Oxford Canal, reading our guide to the waterways,
confirming our itinerary and fighting for the one double bed. Our first day would be spent in the
wide Thames River, confronting our first lock and heading into the historic university town of Oxford.
We planned on averaging 15 miles a day, which meant that we wouldn¹t quite be
able to do the Grand Circle Route which took in the Thames and The Grand Union Canals. Three
weeks are recommended for that. Okay, we’d send ourselves to Coventry and back instead. Just
as well, really, because it proved to be just as much fun coming back as going. We stopped in
at the places we missed on the way up, and there were plenty of those: country teas, village museums
and churches, 16th Century thatched roof pubs, ancient ruins, the bombed cathedral at Coventry.
the skeletal manor house remains at Hampton Gay seen for miles along the river, hunkering high
and lonely in a farmer’s field, and the windmill at Napton, where the Oxford Canal leaves the Grand
Union Canal and winds southward. Once Napton was an important source of clay, shipped by canal boats
from here. Now the pub at the lock is probably the most commerce this sleepy village ever
sees. We spent a rainy night tied up here, took our dominoes into the pub, ordered our jug
of ale and sat playing by the coal fire well into the night, while the locals looked curiously at
our game and smiled at our strange accents.

So, no, there was no problem coming back the same way we went!

On our first day we suffered a captain shortage, so I volunteered David. After all, he’s a sailor,
he’s vaguely British, he knows what a lock is, and it was his idea to do this in the first place!
After that, we were all forced to take two hour stints each. I definitely recommend this
as a trip you plan with good friends, not only for extra relief at the tiller, but also for
sharing "lock duty", because once you leave the manned locks of the Thames you¹re
on your own.

You won¹t believe how narrow the Oxford Canal is. You’ll be ducking willow branches and
collecting berries as you bump from branch to branch. You also won’t believe how shallow
it is. This is not water you¹ll want to wade or bath in, although the swans love it and
will be keeping you company many a mealtime. The anglers love it too, and you¹ll be nudging
their long, telescopic poles near every village.

It wasn’t easy choosing overnight spots. We wanted to stop everywhere. Eric chose a secluded
spot in a willow forest, pulled up, hammered in mooring stakes at the front and back, tied up and
lowered the plank. Then he poured his drink and took his book out to the stern to feed the
swans and wait for the sunset. He never opened his book. I chose downtown Banbury.
We tied up to posts thoughtfully provided by British Waterways, then headed into town to look for
that famous Banbury Cross, to shop, and to find the perfect meal. We were successful in all
three. David chose a spot outside a tidy village which featured a country inn that served real ale
and proper meat pies. We returned to the boat that night with flashlights. One of Heather’s
choices was beside a farmer’s field, where we spent the evening feeding horses windfall apples from
an orchard we’d collided with earlier. One cheeky mare poked her head into our kitchen window
to check on the supply. I’m sure she’s the same one who followed David back from his evening
walk and tried to butt him into the canal. Never feed the animals!

By day 2 we were all out of film. We had been clicking away furiously. Some holidays are like that.
The early fall weather was perfect during that first week, and at every curve of the canal
colours spilled from houseboats, canal houses, and countryside. The gleaming red houseboats
were vivid contrasts to the pots of primulas many of them carried on their roofs. Beautifully
crafted "canal art" watering cans, flower pots, chairs and other works were
jumbled on houseboats and private cruisers. Even the rotting hulks of abandoned boats loomed
picturesque against England’s famous verdant countryside and innocent cloud speckled sky. The
lockkeeper¹s cottages all supported window boxes exploding with radiant blooms.

You’ll see a part of England that some Britons haven’t even seen in years. Traditional village Sundays
and history galore as you bash and chug your way along the canal. Check out the Victorian iron
bridge as you go through Isis Lock near Oxford, and the wood lift bridges in the Cherwell Valley.

And did I mention birds? While the gorgeous kingfisher with its metallic glinting blue was the
highlight of our bird watching, there are plenty of other birds to delight in: the waterhens,
the coots, the herons, the cuckoos, the grebes.

I had thought this holiday might be a little inactive. Wrong. There are over 40
locks on this 77 mile canal. That’s a lot of upper body work. Here’s how it works: you
pull up alongside the lock at the black and white posts and your crew leaps ashore and heads
up the hill to open the gates for you. Sometimes you can be lucky and the lock is ready
for you to enter if someone has just passed you. Or you can be unlucky and have to wait
in line for several other
boats ahead of you, although in September this rarely happened to us. Some of the locks, such
as Somerton are very deep and you feel a little like a frail matchbox as you stare up at 12
feet of unrelenting walls, and forward at the leaking wooden gates, and pray the water won’t
come in too fast.

The first pair of gates are opened with winch handles by two of your crew and then pushed forward.
In you go. Your crew shuts the gates behind you and then attends to the ones ahead. The sluice
gates are opened and the Oxford Canal boils in to join you. After you¹ve bobbed up to the
level of the water outside the gate and the pressure is equalized, the gates are ready to be
opened, and you squeeze out on your way to the next adventure. Working these locks is
actually fun on a nice day. You meet all kinds of people up there: boaters waiting their
turns, dog walkers, strollers. It can be so sociable, in fact, that sometimes your skipper may
have to holler to remind you he¹s still in there. What’s in like in there? You¹ll
re-experience a small surge backward as the water enters, and a forward movement as the water
ebbs. You can do it!

You’ll want to keep going, of course. We did, even though the weather turned rainy in the second
week. When you consider that you can travel through all of England and much of Europe on
these narrow bits of history, it opens a lot of possibilities!

What’s wrong with going in circles anyhow?

Side bar

Shipyards.Many different companies operate on or near the Oxford Canal, from the more basic
Red Line Cruisers at Eynsham to the higher quality Adventure Fleet at Braunston or Alvechurch Boat
Center at Gayton. For information or to organize your canal trip contact Blakes Boating
Holidays in America or Britain:

America:
  Blakes Vacations, 38455 N. Sheridan Rd., #876, Beach Park,
  Illinois 60087, telephone: 847-244-5998, FAX: 847-244-8559


Britain:

  Blakes Holidays Boating
  Wroxham, Norwich
  Norfolk NR12 8DH
  Bookings: 1603 739400
  Brochures: 1603 739333
  email: boats@blakes.co.uk

Costs of budget and deluxe boats, off season and peak season. The peak season is from
July 14 to August 24. Avoid this time if you can, as locks will also be more crowded.
June 30 to July 13 is a little cheaper but still busy. Good times to go are from April to
mid May, or September 15th onward. Costs for the same boat can vary as much as 300£/week
from high to low season, so it really pays to go off season. A basic 42′ narrow boat
for 2-6 people
in low season will cost approx. 456£/week. A similar size boat from Adventure Fleet or Alvechurch
will be approximately 75£ more.

Licensing. Each waterway has its own license, and depending on what boatyard you use,
this license may already be included. The boats are licensed for the waters where you
hire them. In our case, we had to pay an additional 60£ license fee for Oxford Canal
for two weeks as our boat was licensed for the Thames. Water bailiffs will check you,
so be sure you are licensed for the areas you intend to travel in. You can obtain these
licenses at the boatyards.

Boating experience required:  Although the companies are always happy to welcome
experienced boaters, no canal knowledge, boating experience or operating licenses are required.
You will be provided with ample hands on training and theory.

Books  - Nicolson Ordnance Survey, Guide to the Waterwayse.
For information you can write Customer Services, British Waterways, Willow Grange, Church Road,
Watford, WD1 3QA, telephone 01923 226422, or email
Alan@CANALSHQ.DEMON.CO.UK

Website address is http://www.rscom.com/boat

April 22nd, 2009 | Category: Features | 2 comments

Kingfisher Spa

Western Living
          text and photography by Cherie Thiessen

    

 Hot rocks

Take some smooth sea stones from the beach and put them in the magic, reverential hands of a trained therapist. Now add just the right amount of heat to stir up some sighs, mix in sounds of the sea and the tumbling pebbles of a rain stick, and you’ve got some of the unique elements of a sea stone massage at the Kingfisher Oceanside Resort and Spa on Vancouver Island. 

This new treatment - planned for introduction this winter - is one of the Kingfisher’s West
Coast takes on established therapies.

Kingfisher spa experts are always tinkering with recipes and adding indigenous touches to its European spa menu. The sea stone massage, for example, is inspired by another, currently popular treatment, La Stone Therapy. 

But "taking local sea stones and using their ability to retain heat makes the treatment a bit more special," says Spa Director Lori Nawrot. What’s next? There’s thought of introducing a fresh new ingredient: cold rocks.

Who Needs to Know: Anyone seeking a West Coast approach to Nirvana.

How to Get It: Call the Kingfisher Spa at 800-663-7929,
e-mail them at info@kingfisherspa.com
or visit their website at www.kingfisherspa.com 

April 22nd, 2009 | Category: Features | One comment

Two Souls Departing

Traveler Magazine
          text and photography by Cherie Thiessen

Cycling New Zealand’s
North Island

Maori legend has it that at the site of the famous pohutukawa tree located at Cape Reinga, Maori spirits depart on their journey to their final resting place. A weathered white lighthouse also marks this northernmost point of New Zealand where the Pacific Ocean and Tasman Sea meet. It was our plan to cycle north from Auckland on the west coast along to Ninety Mile Beach and the Cape, then back along the Tasman Sea coast and south from Auckland to explore the Coromandel Penninsula. We had six weeks of warm weather, melting into fall in which to cycle 1200 kilometers, hardly a marathon.

Because New Zealand only has 5 million inhabitants, it would be easy to imagine quiet roads, and sometimes they were. Our route, however, didn’t take us on many. Sometimes it seemed those scant millions were all funneled down our route, a two-lane road never meant for the thundering traffic it now struggled to expedite. With no shoulders and a battalion of commercial traffic including logging trucks, fuel tankers, and semis it makes for impatient drivers, frequent congestion and occasionally suicidal cycling conditions. One such day was en route to Tauranga after completing the Coromandel route and heading towards
Rotorua.

“Oh no, a pilot car!” my partner hollered behind me. I saw the car rush past bearing a “wide load following” sign, felt the earth heaving beneath me and turned sharply left, down the steep embankment, buns over bars as we both tumbled to the bottom. I wasn’t going to tangle with an obese truck on a lean road with oncoming traffic. I almost departed that day in true Maori fashion.

The landing was soft, luckily. You could say that was the low point of the trip, metaphorically and realistically speaking. The soft fall weather had changed to a hard rain with attitude, not helped by the headwinds and the sheets of spray passing traffic christened us with. And no shelter en route this day. No welcoming takeaway bars, cafes, pubs or even petrol stations.   

We had been warned. “Parts of the north island are hilly and not cyclist friendly”, Richard Oddy, one of New Zealand’s best known cycling gurus, had warned us when renting us our Trek touring bikes. “The last time I rented bikes to a couple cycling your route, they returned with them in a taxi three days later. Cost them $200. Go south instead.” His suggestion fell on deaf ears. I had my heart set on rolling my wheels along Ninety Mile Beach and finding that Pohutukawa tree.

The hills, the frequently narrow and busy roads and the few days of pelting rain make up only a small part of the story. Cycling is a great way to interact with your surroundings – not just skidding across grass at the bottom of the ditch, but smelling the wild flowers, stopping to feed a horse, hearing the bell tones of a tui, sensing the wind passing by, and feeling so darn smug at the end of every day while fellow campers, none of whom have come by bike, watch in amazement as you roll in. If you’re the wrong side of 60 AND female, their amazement is tripled.

 

 

If you take our route and our advice, you’ll first take a bus out of Auckland. Buses are frequent and drivers helpful.
(see sidebar.) Get off at Waipu and within kilometers you will discover a DOC (Department of Conservation) campsite with expansive ocean vistas, our first overnight
stop. 

Cycling gives you an opportunity to also meet the friendly Kiwis on every twist and turn. When crossing on the postcard sized ferry from Hokianga to
Rawene, we were bowled over by a helpful employee who offered to take our load from Rawene to
Kaikohe, our next night’s destination 40 hilly kilometers further on. He tossed us his car keys as his ferry pulled out, shouting for us to give them to the grocery clerk when we had finished loading up our gear! In orchestrated timing, his car pulled alongside us just as we were starting up the last hill into Kaikohe after enjoying an effortless unladen cycle.

Our skinny tires took us on a leisurely route from Waipu to Whangerei, to Russell and over on the ferry to Kerikeri in the Bay of Islands, to
Mangonui, crossing to Kaitaia before beginning the final —kilometers along the windswept peninsula to Cape Reinga and back via the Tasmanian coast.

After a few day’s rest in Auckland central backpackers, it was back on the bus south to ….and our leisurely cycle along the blue fringes of the Pacific Ocean. Although nearly destroyed by the Coromandel Range leaving….., we anticipated every day and every adventure:
hot springs beach, the beautiful seaside resort of Whitianga, the gold mining town of Waihi at the base of the peninsula, the endless vistas of deserted sandy beaches. We became adept at tossing our bikes unto tiny ferries, ferreting out the best takeaways for cakes and coffee, tying bags of fruit and vegetables on our bikes from unturndownable roadside stands, and drying our laundry on the road. It was a trip that ended in Rotorua all too soon.

Richard Oddy had the final say, though: “You should return some time and bike the South Island.” We will, Richard. We will.

New Zealand
Additional information

 

 

Bikes: 
Some airlines will allow you to bring your own bikes as part of your luggage. If you decide to rent, however, try Chief Spoke, Richard Oddy at Pedaltours in Auckland. Although he does rent bikes, his
specialty is all inclusive guided bicycle tours in New Zealand, Australia and Viet Nam. Twenty five years in the business, last year Pedaltours organized 32 trips, from two people to 67..
http://www.pedaltours.co.nz 

Airlines: 
Air New Zealand flies direct from the U.S.A. and Canada. Enquire about the new ‘bed’ service. 

Buses:
InterCity buses regularly cover most of the routes. Be sure to reserve in advance, however, if you want to ensure your bikes get on. Drivers will ask you for $10 for each bike, which is payable to them and not the company. Check out the various passes which can save money if you use the buses frequently.

Campsites:
North Americans will amazed at the Kiwi campsites. You can choose from Department of Conservation
sites, which are usually in areas of scenic beauty and provide only the basics, or the far more prevalent holiday camps which make camping a luxury experience! All offer a children’s play area with the ubiquitous trampoline, kitchens with microwaves, boiling water, sinks, fridges, ovens and barbecues along with a television room/library/games room and laundry facility. Ablution blocks contain showers, toilets and sinks, sometimes even with hair dryers thrown in but always lots of hot water. Some sites even have pools, hot tubs, small shops, games rooms; one at Miranda even contained an outdoor natural hot spring pool! One of the larger chains is HAPNZ, (www.hapnz.co.nz)

Other important websites:
Official travel website: www.newzealand.com 

Accommodations:
On those odd days when the rain won’t let up and you feel like a real bed, try backpacker accommodations. You can find them almost everywhere.

OR when you need a little more luxury and maybe even a day or two of giving your head a break, book up for a tour or two and let someone else worry about organizing the perfect day. 
Aotearoa Lodge and Tours is perfectly located in Whitianga on the Coromandel Penninsula.
www.tournz.co.nz

The Treehouse: A 120 year old American cottonwood gives its name to this unique backpackers’ accommodation located in 17 verdant acres in Hokianga. Don’t like treehouses? Try the restored school bus.
www.treehouse.co.nz

April 22nd, 2009 | Category: Features | One comment

Patagonia Passage

The Traveler
          text and photography by Cherie Thiessen

I hold unto the side of the building to prevent the unrelenting Puerto Natales wind from turfing me onto the busy road. It has already scooped up at least five travellers, backpacks and all. One of the airborne was my partner, who is now laid up in our hostería with his left leg in a cast. Ergo I’ve been sent to scout and report back.

An ubiquitous summer presence in Patagonia, this morning’s “breeze” has enough attitude to prevent the hybrid cargo-ferry, the Magallanes, from docking and disgorging its passengers. On the narrow eastern shore of what’s ominously called Last Hope Sound, the vivid primary coloured ship is a hulking presence. The sky and the waters are as angry as the captive travellers who bristle on its decks.

I’m reassured, though, by the vessel’s size - 21.2 meters wide and 122 meters long doesn’t mean a lot until you see it looming in front of you. I want size. This four day voyage to Puerto Montt takes us through some infamous water:

“Passengers prone to motion sickness should consider taking medication prior to crossing the Golfo de Penas, which is exposed to gut wrenching Pacific swells”, cautions a popular travel book. I get motion sickness on a lakeside wharf. 

The wind wracked Magallanes, in Chile’s region X11 beyond 49˚S, gives its name to our passenger freighter which lurches across this Gulf twice a week transporting seafood, freight, trucks, cars and herds of unhappy cattle as well as intrepid travellers. The moaning bovines lend a certain ambience, especially after the open seas, when the rural aroma becomes more pungent. 

This trip has become famous among backpackers, having been compared to Alaska’s coast, New Zealand’s Milford Sound and Norway’s fjords. It’s not surprising that the company, Navimag, has been experiencing increasing passenger loads since it started its service in 1979.
(www.navimag.com.)

Eventually the ship’s captain senses a miniscule lull in the wind and when the Magallanes lumbers to shore I return to assist my hobbling husband. Late that evening we board, are shown our cabin and burrow into bed. A few hours later, the shuddering and the jangling of heavy chains
signaling departure rattle us awake.   

The next morning, after we inch through Paso White, the narrowest part in the trip at 80 meters, the mountains close in on both sides and we experience an isolation far greater than anything we have ever felt on British Columbia’s coast. No planes, no boats, no settlements, no fish farms, no clear cuts, instead only rivers, a milky sea and glaciers from continental ice fields nestling into the Andes Cordillera.

By dinner the first night we are nudging into an ice floe garden in Laguna San Rafael. Blue with cold, the chunky San Valentín Glacier stretches toward us. We retreat, shivering, and continue our incredible solitary voyage up the sheltered coast. 

Each day a flyer slipped through our door offers a collage of information and activities. Twice daily presentations in English and Spanish range from glaciology to history, from culture to fauna. Also offered are nightly films, pub entertainment and naturally, pisco sour happy hours. While most passengers eat in the cafeteria, we First Classers dine deliciously with the officers, consuming a choice of amazingly tasty local dishes and bottomless bottles of first rate Chilean wines. 

On our second day we idle near Cotopaxi, a wrecked Greek freighter that now serves as a lighthouse and we venture ashore at Puerto Edén. The tiny boardwalk settlement on the northeast side of Wellington Island is home to the last seven Kawéskar Indians who were relocated by the Chilean government in 1969. Other Chileans live here now, however, and all residents make their living from fishing, oyster gathering and us.

At our briefing on the third day we are given an update on conditions in the dreaded Gulf and urged to take precautions. I’ve already concealed a disc behind my hair but why take chances? I swallow
Gravol and slip on two wrist bands, hiding them under my long shirt. I may be a wimp but the world doesn’t have to know. 

Soon after, the brave ship shimmies and begins its dance. Its flanks heave, its bow dips and rises and with incredible timing, dinner is announced. How can anyone hang unto their plates, I wonder, as en route to the dining room, I bounce with bruising regularity from one side of the narrow corridor to the other.

“You OK?” My partner asks solicitously. Surprisingly, I am.

Of the ten of us, two are missing. I gloat as I grab for the wine glass sliding away and lift it up to the placid waiter.

“Is this rougher than usual?” asks my pale companion on the left.

“No. We haven’t turned yet. That’s when it gets rough.”

She thanks him, daintily takes a roll from the basket and says a gracious ‘bon appetit’ to the rest of us as she lurches out.

The exodus continues between courses, One couple retreats after spilling the soup course on their laps, two others battle out midway through the special Chilean dish. By dessert the boat has turned and only three of us remain. We say yes to more wine as the contents of the table clink and careen.

I am jubilant with wine and victory. 

The next morning Puerto Montt’s harbour unrolls sunshine, beaches, warmth, no wind and the promise of prawns. I am hung over but smiling, proudly wearing my “I sailed on the Magallanes and lived”
t-shirt

April 22nd, 2009 | Category: Features | One comment

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