Sweet surprises on my fair Isle

Wow! It has been a long time since I've updated the old Spirit of Salt Spring blog. But if it's any consolation, it has only been a week or two since I last visited the fairest isle of them all.

I showed up at Ruckle Provincial Park at the end of August at about 3 p.m. on a Friday afternoon. I'd brought my new tent. In fact, it was still in the box. I'd snagged a three-person Coleman at Army & Navy for a mere $69.99 the week before. That's how long it had been since I'd been camping. I didn't even own a tent. I had my sleeping bag, my cooler stocked with Stagg chili and other fine delicacies including some dark coconut porter from Maui. I had my little rock climbing stove perfect for cooking on, and I was beyond happy to be outside and to be there.

As I pulled into the parking area in the campsite, in spite of cars being splayed every which way along the dirt ring road, I managed to park the car right near the wheelbarrows, close to the trail. I threw my stuff into the closest yellow wheelbarrow, all the while recognizing the urgency of laying claim to a spot. It was busier than I'd ever seen it. I needed to stake a claim on my territory. Hurry up! I could feel the urgency.

I was pushing my wheelbarrow full of stuff as if I'd found the Motherload of ultimate Chanterelles and as I passed a ranger, she pointed me in the direction of one of only three spots left. What? Only three spots left and I got one? Fantastic! I'm walking up to my spot and this young guy, camped at the next site, appearing to be alone, comes up to me and offers to lend me a hand.

"No. Nope. I'm fine. Thanks but I'm good." 

There's that pesky, indomitable, I can do it, I am woman, I am an island unto myself hear me roar idiocy raising its clueless head. As the words leave my lips, and I'm staring into his very pleasant young face, I'm thinking, he's male, that's what they do, they like to feel useful, to feel needed, remember?  Do you recall nothing from the manual?

I look over at him. Oh, I think, maybe I've hurt his feelings. Oh well. So, I'm a slow learner.
I start whipping things out of two big blue Ikea bags that I've carried all my stuff in, and he shows up again.
"I can help you with the tent," he says like a Golden Retriever waiting for me to toss a ball.
This time I've got the correct response at the ready.
"Sure, why not. That would be great. I just bought the thing. I've never put it up. It's not even out of the box. I hope to god it's not missing a pole or something. Go to it."

We work together. I learn his name is Marwan. He takes out his big huge knife that doubles as a couple of other things and rips the box open in a split second. Together we get it up in no time because even a three year old could put this thing up, and my new home is ready for sweet dreams later that evening.

Now, can I just say that this is so Salt Spring and me. Whenever I'm there, things just seem to work out. I almost take it for granted now. It's as if I'm thinking to myself, of course some cute young thing will be there at the other end to help me put up my tent. Why wouldn't he? Now, let's be clear, this type of thing is so far from my city reality, it makes me feel like I'm not just a ferry ride away, I'm on another planet. Young guys do not come up to me in the city offering anything. Not drugs, not sex, not even directions.

I find out all sorts of things about my helpful neighbor. He's only 19. He doesn't like being stuck out at Ruckle with nothing going on. 

"That's the whole point," I say, cheerfully, as if I'm his mother. I find out he's from Libya. I mean are you kidding me? A Libyan is camping on Salt Spring right next to me. And, then he tells me he's been in Canada for about a year. First he says Vancouver and then that switches to Victoria. I note that and let it slide, although I do feel, after that, that I'm beginning to do some sort of racial profiling on him and even though I feel a bit guilty about that, I realize that in these times, it's inevitable. Especially when the story changes.

Our conversation is easy. With the tent up, its time to eat. "I have some vegetarian chili," I say. 

He turns his nose up at that.
"No meat?" he says with such disappointment.
"I have some rice," he says. "Out of a package. I've been eating it for a month."
I learn he's been travelling around. The Rockies and other parts of Vancouver Island.
"Come over when you're ready, if you want. We can have dinner together," I say.

He goes off to pray or send encrypted text messages to the enemy.
I continue to prepare my fresh air domicile as if I've just returned from Pottery Barn.

We seem to have lots to talk about at dinner. I'm delighted to have company.

We are joined later that night by a guy who picked my new friend up as he was walking towards Ruckle with a huge pack. The good Samaritan has a Ph.D. in American literature and he's getting away from the city prior to returning to a classroom and the responsibilities of college teaching. We sit around at dusk, Marwan and I, and Simon, the guy who has written a book on prison writing based on his research and experiences in some maximum security prison in New York state. Conversation meandered as darkness blanketed the campsite. What a motley little crew we made. And what a fantastic beginning to my little trip.

The next morning, I dropped my new Libyan friend at the Fulford ferry and backtracked to meet Gail, at KiZMit, the coolest coffee place on island that you really must go to if you have never been, and especially if you're in the south end. This photo below doesn't really do it justice. Get coffee and goodies there if you can, even though it's only open 11 a.m.  to 4 p.m. (in the summer) I suppose.

After that, I keep moving. I drive into town and attend a workshop on writing and getting grant money. Later that night, I hang outside the Treehouse Cafe to take in a bit of Tom Hooper and his family. He's playing with his wife, Suzanne Little, and their two sons. How cool must that be to have your whole family on stage?

The next day I conduct three interviews. I meet up with a jewelry artist at her fabulous ocean-side studio for a future Aqua feature. I meet up with photographer John Cameron and then a realtor for separate, upcoming magazine features. Its always so enlightening to get a glimpse into other people's livelihoods.

After that, I wrap it up by accompanying Gail and Chloe to a wonderful community concert in what's called the South End Groove yard. We're in the backyard of a man named David who has turned his garage into a performance space so he can curate and invite the kind of musicians he loves to hear. He then shares that talent with whoever wants to come for a reasonable price ($20).  All the ticket sales go to the musicians. We listened to the Bluegrass pickings from a talented duo named Cahalen Morrison and Eli West from Seattle.

It was a great visit and just in time to make sure I could get my island fix prior to a busy fall.

You won't want to miss the fabulous Pride Parade, The Fall Fair and Sip and Savour weekend. Don't forget, as well, the Heritage Apple Festival.

September is one of the busiest months on the island and in my books it's one of the very best times to plan a visit.

The reflections at this time of year are as colourful as some of the island's characters.

Salt Spring's Freaking Fun Fall Fair

If you've never been to the Salt Spring Island Fall Fair, it's really an event that you should schedule in for next year as a delightful way to ease into autumn if "easing in" is ever possible given that Fall descends in much the same way a logging truck bears down on a pedestrian outside a crosswalk.  The Fair takes place the third week of September each year. My Blogging schedule has gone to hell so I thought maybe I'd just give you a sense (not truly accurate but you'll get the pun-intended picture) of the past few weeks in photos. Here we go.

I really liked this sign. Whoever made it told people to "Draw Here!" and uncharacteristically, they did what they were told for once.

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This is the kind of thing you'll see. Vegetables, weird characters made out of vegetables, quilts, dogs herding sheep, cotton candy, pies and baked goods, photographs, rides for kids, pies, pies, more pies made by the "pie ladies", a cornucopia of varying degrees of talented local entertainment, weaving, pottery, basketry, tractor pulls, zucchini races, horse jumping and dressage. Classic cars. Emus.  Pigs. Goats. Weird chickens and roosters. The list just goes on and on. It's wholesome country fun that you just don't get in the city; an experience that takes you back a couple of decades worth of innocence and you'd have to be evil or stupid  not to love it uttered in true islander "I'm going to give you my opinion whether you want it or not" fashion.

Somebody actually grew these. No food stylists involved.

The family that bakes weird things together must surely grow more fond of each other if you ask me.

Love watching Border Collies put these sheep in their places.

Really liked this quilt. I'm just trying to imagine who you might give it to? The father of your baby after he left you right after he found out you were pregnant? Not sure really!

My niece Shannon came from Whistler, my sister Joy (right) came from Prince George and her twin, June, arrived from Burnaby.  (Why did my parents have to name two sets of twins with matching first initials?) We had a lot of fun and I'm so glad they came.

I didn't actually grow this (No? Really?) but it was fun to pretend I did! As my friend Linda said on Facebook, "You really should see a doctor about that."

I really like this photo of my sister, June. She looks so happy.

This is Shannon trying to steal a Harley.

This is what you can do with a mother of a zucchini and too much time on your hands. Might just be a cheap Christmas gift for the horse-loving pre-teen in your family.

This is Jack Woodward. He's a Victoria lawyer and he and his wife Glenda own The Harbour House Hotel and the Organic Farm. The farm entries sweeped the blue ribbons and trophies at the fair winning the top trophy that dates back to 1954 (which isn't actually in this photo!)

People always say that gardening types are a little "different". Here's the crew that have turned the Harbour House Organic Farm into a fabulous and growing venture. They submitted 73 entries. They are the face of labour behind the 100 yard diet as they like to call it given that the organic farm is right behind the hotel.  Do you have any idea how much work that would be? I don't and hope never to find out! The head gardener, Rob, is 75 years old. He looks about 63. Amazing!

A new event called Sip & Savour happened this weekend. Friday night at The Hastings House and Saturday afternoon at the Harbour House. It was a really great event organized by the Salt Spring Chamber of Commerce and brought together all manner of growers, vintners, brewers and chefs to give visitors a taste of local (including Cowichan-based) produce and culinary expertise.

This is Nate and Paul. Paul, head chef (right) led the team to win the Best Brunch in Canada Award just recently as hosted by FooddayCanada.com. Read about their creation here

This is Bruce Wood of Bruce's Kitchen. If you knew the type of hours he worked you'd be wondering if the laughter is actually hysteria resulting from exhaustion. I love this photo. I really feel like this photo captures the essence of Bruce at his best. I'm a bit biased however given that I took it. Bruce was just awarded the top prize by FoodDayCanada. Read about it here.

Finally, this is me getting some badly needed exercise. Some people (Catholics) go to confession. On Salt Spring, we prefer to climb up Mt. Erskine and confess to the fairies behind the fairy doors. It's probably just as effective really.  Afterall, if the spirit world was good enough for former Prime Minister William Lyon MacKenzie King, it's good enough for me.

It has been a busy few weeks. But, it has been lots of laughs.

Heaven Sent Innocence at the Fall Fair

A slice of peach-mango pie. A lamb burger. Chocolate-walnut fudge. A diet coke (cuz calories matter she says jokingly). A hot dog. In exactly that order. That's what I ate yesterday. Yes, starting with dessert seems right when the Fall Fair is on.

Innocence. All around pure innocence.

In this day and age I think it's something that a lot of us crave without even knowing it until, that is, we're standing in front of the Zuchinni races and see how excited the audience gets. The kids get to make these racers out of zuchinnis and they do an amazing job. There was a great white shark zuchinni racer. There were zuchinnis with antlers. Huge zuchinnis, bigger than watermelons with capes on and wings and little zuchinnis nailed down into wooden structures. Then, ski-jump fashion, they compete against each other - two at a time - and let the zuchinni demolition derby begin. It was so much fun! It makes you want to run right home and make the weirdest zuchinni thing you can imagine and then put wheels on it. Honest.

The weather was spectacular as it has been, it seems to me, all summer long. And, the displays were full of flowers exploding with hues of every shade on their full blooms, multi-dimensional hand-made quilts and artistic basketry, photographs, Leggo art, watercolour paintings, junior floral arranging and blue, red and white ribbons for first, second and third on the jams and marmalades and cookies, cakes and tarts.

The pie ladies had baked the 100 pies which sell out ever year. Bumbleberry, Pear-ginger, mango-peach, raspberry raisin, every berry imaginable tucked neatly into the safety of the flakey pastry waiting for forks to pierce their perfection.

There was Liam, the little guy from Utah, with his parents who was wearing his OshKosh overalls and looking criminally cute.

There were weird hats with miniature forests growing on them and old farm machinery making weird noises working well oiled pistons that hadn't worked that hard since last year's Fair. Don't forget the classic cars with fabulous grills and hood ornaments, corn on the cob roasting and served up by the Fire Department, horse racing and little girls in their riding attire and blow up slides for kids to play on.

Of course Valdy was there with his red sox and his red shoes and Tom Hooper's family and a local band called The Relatives made up of mom on drums, dad and two teen-aged sons with each of them able to play just about every instrument. The two sons had interesting strong voices and the audience wanted them to play longer. More.

Of course there was the beer tent and the visiting and the running into old friends and the being sure to catch a glimpse of what so and so had submitted and comparing pie flavours and buying a ticket on which square in the middle of that blue ring that the cow would poop in and voting on Audience choice on the crafts and spinners and weavers and potters. And there was Judy, Search and Rescue volunteer, there first thing in the morning directing traffic and there last thing in the late afternoon when it closed down at 5pm on Sunday. Volunteers make it happen.

Mark your calendar for next year. It's fabulous, old-fashioned fun and it will make you happy to experience it and to know that such things still exist. Third week of September.