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Holiday

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Salt Spring 1

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidI promised a few posts back that I would write something about Saltspring (or Salt Spring as the locals apparently prefer it) Island, whence we scurried for a soothing lost weekend before our busy moving-in week.

The expanse of water that lies between Vancouver Island and the mainland – the Georgia Straight – is studded with an archipelago of islands of a diverse assortment of sizes. The more southerly group of these – the Juan de Fucas – lies across the border in the U.S. Those to the north comprise the Gulf Islands which are part of British Columbia. This range of islands is one of the big attractions of the area as far as I am concerned and I intend to spend a fair amount of my time therein upon my as yet unrealised boat – once is has been… er… realised!

The Gulf Islands have a somewhat other-worldly feel to them which is only exacerbated by their being smaller islands off the coast of a larger island – which in turn lies just off the coast of the Canadian mainland. The good inhabitants of Vancouver Island already see themselves as somehow different to British Columbians from the interior and the Gulf Islanders go a whole giant stride further. The closest parallels I can think of – for those who have absolutely no idea what I am blethering on about – are such mildly alternative settlements as St Ives or Glastonbury in the UK – or Tofino in BC. Hopefully you get the idea.

Salt Spring is the largest of the Gulf Islands and the closest to Vancouver Island. The ferry thence from Swartz Bay (but 10 minutes drive from our new abode) takes only 35 minutes and some of that is taken up by the usual jostling for position that is de rigueur in any ferry port before loading or unloading can begin.

Salt Spring has a higher than average population of creatives (including some really quite well known figures) in addition to what might best be described as a healthy cabal of new-ageists… You know – granola munchers, tofu tokers and suchlike! As a result the island positively vibrates with yoga retreaters, livers off the land and no end of artists and crafters. There is a massively popular Saturday market each week in the largest village – the delightful Ganges – at which all manner of home crafted delights may be purchased. The standard of goods on display is astonishing and it is little surprise to learn that Salt Spring has an international reputation across a fair range of fields.

Ganges – incidentally – was once called Admiralty Bay but was renamed in 1859, taking its name from HMS Ganges which was at the Pacific Station from 1857 – 1860 under the command of Captain John Fulford… after whom the small port on the south end of the island is named. Thus are the origins of many of the names of settlements and geological features on the west coast of Canada; a rich palette with surprisingly prosaic roots.

Should you feel that my tone regarding the Gulf Islands – and Salt Spring in particular – is a little too flip or cynical, I plead that I merely jest from affection. I quickly fell in love with Salt Spring but – as is also the case with St Ives and Glastonbury – I wouldn’t want to live there. (The same is not actually true of Tofino, but we all have our weaknesses!).

By way of recompense I will post some glorious images of Salt Spring in my next post.

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A final potpourri of images from our recent travels to the interior of British Columbia…

Our last night in Kamloops:

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidA five hour drive back to the coast the next morning took us to Horseshoe Bay, whence we took the ferry to Nanaimo – home both to the famous Nanaimo bar (look it up!) and to the Girl’s mother.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidA night in Nanaimo was followed by a final drive down the east coast of Vancouver Island and a last short ferry crossing – the (slow) shortcut across the Saanich inlet from Mill Bay to Brentwood Bay.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidHow am I doing at selling you the delights of beautiful British Columbia?

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Over every mountain there is a path, although it may not be seen from the valley.

Theodore Roethke

Whilst at the cabin on the lake last week we took the GX470 up into the mountains to see what it could do. Naturally I took some pictures.

This is the pretty Saskum Lake:

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidHere is the Lexus in its natural habitat – on the way up Vavenby Mountain.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidHaving crossed the mountain and dropped down into Vavenby itself we took the Yellowhead down to Clearwater and stopped for a bite to eat at the highly rated Strawberry Moose!

A little further down the highway we turned off at Little Fort and took the tiny ferry across the North Thompson.

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

The ferry runs on demand and can only carry two vehicles at a time. We were on this occasion the sole occupants and happily paid the ferryman the only ‘fee’ requested – engagement in a lengthy conversation before being allowed to continue up into the hills again.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidWe took the back route down to Barriere through Chu Chua. I have mentioned before in these posts that that The Girl is part First Nations on her mother’s side. Her band – Simpcw First Nation – is based now in Chu Chua and we passed the band office and school on the way down.

 

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Light the lamp and fire mellow
Cabin essence timely hello
Welcomes the time for a change

Van Dyke Parks, Brian Wilson

The lack of posts over the last week is simply explained. The Kickass Canada Girl and I have journeyed to the BC interior to visit The Girl’s birthplace – Kamloops. For the past week we have been even further up the North Thompson valley, staying in The Girl’s cousin’s cabin on one of the lakes above Barriere.

This idyllic hideaway is everything one might expect and hope for – beautiful setting, fabulous weather, total peace and quiet and no phone or Interwebnet coverage.

it is the sort of place where you are wakened by a pair of chipmunks fifteen foot up a tree outside the window, chasing each other round and round the trunk to ecstatic squeals. Or the sort of place – as it was this very morning – where one may be awoken at 5:30am by what at first sounded like rifle shots, but turned out to be a squirrel bombarding the tin roof of the cabin with pine cones from fifty foot up a conifer!

All one can do is stumble down the short path to the dock and tumble into the lake clutching one’s toothbrush.

I think some pictures are in order:

Photo by Andy Dawson ReiidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReiidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReiidHere are some studies of the light on the water at different times of day:

Photo by Andy Dawson ReiidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReiidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReiidPhoto by Andy Dawson Reiid

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Photo by Andy Dawson ReidAt around about this time last year the Kickass Canada Girl and I were eagerly anticipating our then imminent excursion to Barcelona on which we accompanied the A level Theatre Studies students from the School. As I wrote in a post at the time, Easter last year fell about as late as is possible and our jaunt to Catalonia was over and done before the feast itself was celebrated.

Whereas the festal day this year is not quite as early as that of 2013 it is still a little on the precipitate side. As a result the weather – until today at any rate – has been anything but spring-like – erring in fact on the side of the distinctly chilly and leaden. Normal Easter bank holiday activities – dropping the top on the convertible, sitting outside some pleasantly rural hostelry nursing a glass of cool Sauvignon Blanc and otherwise generally celebrating of the vernal season – have thus had to be put on hold.

As it happens this is no bad thing as there is much to be done.

The bulk of the holiday weekend was thus spent sorting through cupboards, bookcases, storage shelves and the loft above the garage, doing what Canadians – and doubtless plenty of others (though clearly not Apple who auto-correct the phrase to ‘bucking’) – describe as ‘hucking out’ all those goods and chattels that will not be making the trip to the Pacific North West with us. Normally a brutal operation, on this occasion the task was facilitated considerably by its being the fourth such episode within the last decade. When the Girl and I moved in together in 2005 we had of necessity to find space for our combined possessions. Then, when we first put the Buckinghamshire apartment on the market in 2011, we had a clear out as part of the staging process. Further, when we came to Berkshire later that same year we carried out yet another purge to ease the move.

Now the process must be repeated – this time with an immovable deadline!

All the surveys carried out by our shortlisted international movers agree on one thing – we have approximately 10% more ‘stuff’ than will fit in a 20 foot container. As we are determined that this will be our limit some things clearly have to go. The double bed from our spare room – an inexpensive item purchased primarily for the staging exercise – was an obvious selection. My piano – a rather beautiful Edwardian upright that I inherited from my father – is considerably tougher to part with. The balance is tipped by the knowledge that the trans-Atlantic crossing might in any case prove rather too much for its increasingly fragile fabric. The challenge now is to find a good home for it before we depart.

All else is really just nipping and tucking to bring down the volume – but there is no harm in that in any case.

 

I am perhaps actually being a little unfair with regard to the holiday break as a whole. The Girl is in the midst of a two week exeat from work – taken in part to use up leave that she would otherwise lose. In addition I took the Thursday before and the Tuesday after Easter off so that we might share a six day recess during which sojourn we could once again rehearse being retired together.

I am very happy to report that it has all gone extremely well…

…as has the opportunity to catch up last Friday with some dear friends whom we have not seen since last autumn. Our most grateful thanks to them for entertaining us so splendidly!

 

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…on our recent sojourn on the continent!

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson Reid

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A good photograph is knowing where to stand
Ansell Adams

I do not claim for a moment to know where to stand… but I cannot in any case resist posting some more random images from France.

This is La Rochelle – which we had not previously visited.

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

These are random passing sights that took my fancy:

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson Reid

And this is from the Chateau de Tennessus:

image

 

I must also at this point express hearty congratulations to the English ladies who triumphed against the Canadians in the Women’s Rugby World Cup on Sunday evening last in Paris. The Canadians were not by any means disgraced, having put up a really strong performance. They will certainly feature strongly in future competitions. The Kickass Canada Girl is just about speaking to me again!

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On our way to the charming region of the Poitou Charente that is to be our home for the next week we spent a couple of nights in what might best be described as a fairytale medieval castle – the Chateau de Tennessus. This twenty five year labour of love on the part of its English owners is a testament to what can be achieved if one is prepared to invest a simply extraordinary amount of work, art and money into what is quite clearly an overarching passion.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson Reid

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england canadaAvid followers of these obscure obita dicta may well recognise the image at the top of this post. I used it for the occasion last year on which the Kickass Canada Girl and I ventured to the Twickenham Stoop to see the English ladies take on their Canadian counterparts at the ‘gentlemanly’ pastime of ‘rugger’. In that instance – to the Girl’s chagrin – the home team proved too strong for the visitors.

I re-use the image now because the two sides meet again this coming Sunday – but this time in Paris for the final of the Women’s Rugby World Cup! How exciting!

The English ladies have made a number of appearances in World Cup finals and have indeed once lifted the trophy. On the last few occasions, however, they have been well beaten by New Zealand – who were indeed favourites again for this tournament. Canada have not previously finished higher than seventh – so really are entering uncharted territory. The two sides have already met in the pool stages this time around – the result being a tantalising 13 all draw.

The Irish ladies did everyone a favour by knocking out the All Blacks but seemed by yesterday’s semi-final against England to have exhausted themselves in the process – the English romping home 40 – 7. The Canadians then opened up a good lead against the hosts – France – but had to endure sustained pressure in the closing 20 minutes – just holding on to go through 18 – 16.

We wish the very best of luck to both sides for Sunday.

As it happens we will be in France over the weekend – though not particularly close to Paris. This is probably a good thing since we would be very tempted to try to get to the game in spite of it already being a sell-out – the which itself is a fantastic result for the women’s game.

We are taking a brief break from the rigours of work and spending a week in the company of the good friends whose wedding we attended in Hong Kong a couple of years back. They have rented a gite in the Poitou Charente for three weeks and we will spend the first of those with them. We leave this very evening!

Expect photographs…

 

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Photo by Andy Dawson ReidI have – as I did at this time last year – taken a week off work to recuperate from the rigours of the academic year which has just recently run its course.

Thus far – apart from running a few errands – I have done little of note… some barely consequential musical doodling and a pleasant walk when the gaps in the showery weather permitted. This is not a problem – however – the aim not being to achieve much beyond catching up on some sleep and getting myself back into my normal positive frame of mind.

I’m still working on that!

On one of my walks I took some snaps, none of which I particularly cared for with the exception of that appended here – an old tractor put out to pasture in the corner of a bosky meadow.

No need – I think – to dwell too heavily on the symbolism therein.

Work has – of late – been particularly bloody for us both. In my case there are things going on at the School that I do not much care for. I am all too aware that my disgruntlement is in no small part because I now long to be gone over the hills and far away – and that were it not so I would probably embrace the changes in a considerably more positive manner. It is nearly two years now since I first wrote on this blog – “I’m done“… Well – I am even more done now!

This is the waiting game – the hiatus in our onward march of progress – the lacuna in our strategic thinking.

My request for Canadian PR has been submitted – now we wait…

Our Buckinghamshire apartment hangs on the property market like a ripe fruit, waiting to be plucked – and now we wait…

Our pension projections – courtesy of the Kickass Canada Girl’s financial advisor cousin – glitter temptingly just out of reach – and we wait…

The girl and I both feel that we have achieved in our careers all that we wish or need to do. Nothing left to prove.

And now we await…

…the starting gun…

…the breaking of the storm…

…the moon on a stick!

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