Any day my friend Lisa and I spend together is sure to result in at least one moment of uncontrollable, let me wipe my eyes, laughter. Today was no exception. The thing is, it's never about anything really all that funny. You know what I mean? We can just amuse ourselves. We feed off each other.
Ms. Wolfe decided that it was a Sunshine Coast kind of day. So, that's where we headed.
We caught the 9:30 ferry. Now. All it can take is just one word to spark a monologue from either of us that meanders from one topic to the next so far from the first word that set us off in the first place that we need each other to remind us where it all began. That's why we barely noticed that we weren't moving. We were sitting on the car deck, in the car, waiting to get off, and waiting, and waiting.
Apparently there was a problem. They couldn't get the ramp up. Finally, the ferry backed up and began circling. We were poppin' wheelies on the water. When the captain of a sea going vessel uses these words: "Let's keep our fingers crossed" in a sentence over the loud speaker, you know things aren't going quite as well as they could be. We spent 2 hours on the ferry on what is a 40-minute crossing.
We talked to a guy. He was coming back from some place in Alberta called Grand Cache. He had to decide whether he was going to take a job in a coal mine and he only had a few days to decide. He was worried about his cat. His cat would be starving if he didn't soon get off the ferry. It was an "electrical problem". Guys. Men's men. Men in trucks were all conferencing. They were appalled (my word, not there's) and shocked (my word not there's) that they - BC Ferries - didn't have a backup generator for this kind of thing. It's not as if they just started this business last year Lise astutely chimed in.
"What if the ferry began taking on water?" asked the guy with the starving cat. What then? We'd be stuck on the ferry and we'd have to jump even though it was almost right at the dock. "I never thought of that" I said. But that got me thinking, (always a dangerous thing) and I said, "What if there's a fire on the ferry and they can't get it up? The ramp that is! We could all die on a ferry right at the ramp."
Why is it that as soon as you can't get somewhere, like off a ferry, you can't stop wanting to know exactly what's going on even though it really doesn't matter. All that matters is you ain't going nowhere. Now in fact, Lise and I really didn't care because we were just hangin' out. Our only certain destination was Molly's Reach for lunch. You know, Molly's Reach of the Beachcomber's fame. You have to be Canadian eh to get that reference.
After a little reminiscing, perusing the old photos of Bruno and the gang, we got in touch with my friends Anne and Bob. They were home. So, we headed up just past Sechelt to where the Wakefield Inn used to be. Our visit included good china, tea, lemon and ginger loaves and a walk (they're so damned civilized!)
Then, we got back in the car, we headed back towards Roberts Creek. We come across this beautiful little woodworking shop called Inside Passage that doubles as a full-blown woodworking school. Note to self: Take a woodworking course! Guys are everywhere. We were greeted by one of the students, a middle-aged guy, who was excessively friendly and we got the full on tour. We got to see all the pieces he's made. What he's working on now. We got to see the other guys sweeping and cleaning up. We got to touch the wood and hear names of wood we'd never heard. Rhymes with Zebra. We got to run our finger along the smooth surfaces of beautiful little jewellery boxes with secret chambers. We got to fantasize about the kind of men who could actually make furniture. Who doesn't love wood? Wood is sexy!
Then, with time to kill, we drove back to Gibsons and wandered down the dock, peering into Sa Boothroyd's gallery (which was closed) and admiring all the boats in the harbour, especially the boat with all the plants on its roof.
It was a beautiful, relaxing, sunny gorgeous day and we had fun! And, bonus, we got off the ferry without incident on the way back.
All's well that end's well.