Mayne Island visit and memories

I always find it interesting how each Southern Gulf Island in B.C. has a very different vibe. Mayne Island has one of the most chill vibes. You can feel your shoulders lower within an hour of being there. It's so relaxing once you're there, it's hard not to want to nap.

I visited my friends Donna and Eric who have lived on the island for more than 25 years and it was so nice to get out of James Bay in Victoria, take in their mini Saturday market where Donna sells her jewellery and photo cards and visit the busiest place in town, their Thrift Store. We then drove out to Bennett Bay and took a stroll out to the point looking down onto the beach. We hung out in their backyard, which for me, as a non land owner, is a total luxury. Later on, we went down to Reef Bay and went swimming in the ocean before dinner where other locals had gathered for a dip on the small beach. Being the citified one, I had on water shoes Donna had given me during a previous visit to keep any little crabs from potentially gnawing on my toes. I thought back to my visit in 2023 when Donna and I were enjoying an ocean swim and then spotted two seals heading straight for us and we freaked out and scrambled out of the water as fast as we could in a moment of terror. Silly girls!

The three of us took a walk to Georgina Point early Sunday morning and sat on the new benches and  took in the ever spectacular views across to Galiano where a ferry was already working. They relayed stories of some of the people they knew, including themselves, who managed to live rent-free in caretaker positions, a reality that is almost impossible to come by now. With the onslaught of new property owners, many of them very part-time, the island they used to know, has shifted.

We went back home and puttered. Donna cut my hair in a chair in their backyard which is a luxury in itself, to have a friend fussing over your hair, snipping here and there. I didn't care how it turned out, I just loved the intimacy of the experience.  Donna made lunch and we relocated to their side deck. I took a look at an incredible photo album of all the wooden boats Eric has made in the past and got a peek into his workshop, don't call it a Man Cave. His "library" is full of books, and some incredibly detailed sketches he did in his earlier years, photos of boats, record albums and a t.v. which Donna forbids from "her house." He built the whole house with his own hands (with her help) but she's in charge! Early Sunday afternoon we went for a walk in the forest near the Mayne Island Brewery which I didn't even know existed and it was nice to see a newish spot to me, full of locals and tourists alike at the tables positioned throughout the yard.

I have so many memories of Mayne. My mom first took my brother and I there when we were maybe nine or 10 years old. A friend of hers, had a cabin on the island for a time. In my late twenties, I went there with Will before spending the majority of our time at Ruckle Park on Salt Spring. I also took more than a few cycling day trips in my thirties with a friend I knew then, Glenys. Our real excuse for all that exercise was to end up on the deck of the now closed Springwater Lodge for a beer, a burger and fries, and the view. I so wish someone with tons of money would buy that place and fix it up because I think it has to be one of the best views in all the Gulf Islands, right at the start of Active Pass and it's part of so many Mayne Island memories for so many people, good and bad, I'm guessing.

I think about the time I rented some tiny shack above Horton Bay and had to cycle there not realizing how far it was from the ferry, and the challenge of the gravel road that climbed up to reach it. My friend Colleen came to visit and I know she must have been swearing out loud with every push on the pedals, given that she wasn't in the regular habit of riding a bike. I made at least one trip on my own on my old fluorescent pink and lime green mountain bike, and I took a break at Georgina Point. I was lying down and suddenly  heard another person yell the distinct, "Whales" and as I sat up, I spotted at least four whales, moving fast with one of them stopping to spyhop. It was spectacular because of how close they were.

There was the time pre-Covid, maybe 2018, I walked 22,000 steps because I wanted to get out of Victoria, and so once I got to the island, I walked to the little village then took a break and had some food. I then kept walking down to Geogina Point where the lighthouse is. After a rest, I walked down to Bennett Bay and back in one day before walking back to the ferry to come back to the city. That is a Forrest Gump amount of walking for one day for me. I did love the feeling of freedom that comes from movement, walking along the side of the road there, admiring Arbutus trees and ravens and inhaling the dry grasses and the sounds of the birds and the peace. It's an experience I think everyone should have: Walking only with your thoughts as company on a Gulf Island in the forest, along the beach, on the side of a road where you'll notice things you never would in a car.

Come to a think of it, here's a book recommendation: The Old Ways; A Journey on Foot by Robert Macfarlane, 2012.

Ferries like Starbucks in the Gulf Islands

Around here, ferries are like the dualing Starbucks on Robson Street at the corner of Robson and Thurlow in Vancouver. There's one on every corner (or at least three points on island).

I took this photo last summer off of Ruckle Park on Salt Spring Island where the campground is and I thought it was cool because it's not often you see two big ferries passing there. Or, at least I haven't. I decided to play with the shot a little to make it more interesting and I like the way it looks on an angle.

Last night someone told me about a conversation she'd had with a long time resident who commutes off island for work. The long time resident said something akin to blasphemy around here. She said she wouldn't mind if they built a bridge between Vancouver Island and Salt Spring. Apparently, in the morning, getting off the island to Crofton if you're headed to Duncan or Ladysmith or Nanaimo is getting so busy that sometimes there are more cars than ferry. Who knew?

I don't like the idea of a bridge. For me, part of the charm of living here is having to take a ferry. Of course, I haven't lived here very long and I expect the longer you live here the more you hate BC Ferries. But, honestly, from my perspective, if you choose to live on an island how can you be in your right mind and complain about ferries. Get off the island. Go live right in the middle of a city.

Last year a Salt Spring resident was banned from the ferries for six months because was so pissed off that the last Friday night ferry from Crofton was under capacity but a ferry employee would not let her board because it was ready to sail. She had 40 litres of fresh milk for her capuccino stall at the Saturday Market and couldn't get on.  In total frustration, she nudged a ferry employee with her car. The RCMP were called. When she tried to board a ferry the next morning on the first sailing she was informed that she was banned from riding a BC Ferry for six months.  Get a grip lady! Maybe it's time to move.We're not talking a kidney transplant here, we're talking coffee!  Get a watch. Show up earlier. No sympathy here.

While trying to find the above details I discovered this West Coast Ferries Forum.  Ferries and islanders. Just another love-hate relationship.

The Ferry Caper

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.