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.

A quick catch up at Sacred Mountain Lavender

I did a quick trip to Salt Spring this past week to drop off more of my books to Adina at Salt Spring Books and to take advantage of the time to see a friend for a short visit so that we could go to Sacred Mountain Lavender or more specifically she could drive me before depositing me back to the ferry.

There's quite major road construction coming out of Ganges to the south. I believe they are widening the road and putting in a bike lane to make it safer for cyclists which could mean a delay if you're a tourist who isn't aware of such things and thinking of visiting. On that day our wait was minimal.

I've always had a love of Sacred Mountain Lavender because of good memories when I first attended the lavender festival they used to put on many years ago. Unfortunately, because of popularity, and the impact of having too many people wandering around near their home, they have closed the lower field which was my favourite so I was a little disappointed about that. But the real purpose of my visit was to  pick up some more of their high quality products, especially the lavender spritzer and the oil, and I just like to be there, to linger in the fields. 

Lavender forces you to inhale, slow down, and dream. You want to linger and take in the colour purple at the height of the season.

It gave us a chance to catch up, savour some tasty lavender tea and sit for a while in the peace on a weekday afternoon.

If you're curious about all the products they sell, and can't get to the island, you can order off their website: https://sacredmountainlavender.com/lavender-shop/

That way you can keep one of summer's favourite and historic herbal scents around you, or on you, throughout the year.

Ruckle Farm Day Fun

I finally made it back to Ruckle Farm Days yesterday.

I think it has been about 15 years since I last went and that just freaks me out to see that number highlighting how much time has passed.

It was a stellar day on the top deck of the ferry from Swartz Bay on the 11 a.m. The wind was non existent which meant my hat could stay on with no effort as I soaked in a warm spring making it feel that summer vacation had arrived.

Every time I take the ferry to visit Salt Spring, which is not that often anymore, it takes me right back to that late September day when I first moved there in 2008 with Neil and Richard as my movers and the excitement of a fresh beginning floating as distinctly as the cumulus clouds. 

I'm sure there are other places in the world where this kind of local event happens but I'm also just as sure these types of local events steeped in the history of a place and innocence and community are harder to come by, at least the closer one's proximity to bigger cities.

I didn't see any laptops. There were no video games to keep kids entertained. Just goats, sheeps, lambs, Highland cattle and their calves. Plus the farm's two hard working sheep dogs. The farm managers, Mike and Marjorie Lane. The Lions Club volunteers sweating over the hot coals to cook hot dogs and hamburgers and lamb burgers. Blacksmiths tending to the fire and sharing their craft with those who were keen to try. Tables with ginger and chocolate chip cookies. And even the recreation of some Salt Spring history using dolls and implements tended lovingly by a woman who was passionate about the history of American Girl dolls.

I love these type of events where community members have time to chat, the picnic tables fill up and little groups of kids dot the grass in their own aimated conversations.

After more than 30 years of visiting Ruckle Farm and Park, yesterday was the first time I actually got to step inside the old farmhouse. I guess the artifact that most caught my attention was the crest on the wall with the Ruckle name under it. I'd never seen that before.

There's something so comforting about just enjoying a fresh field, fresh air and the comfortable company of an old friend.

And by the number of cars in the grass field doubling as the parking area, I'm not alone in finding the appeal of this type of event.

Mark your calendars for next year if you missed it.

The real people in my book: At One with an Island: Salt Spring Revisited

Pauline McDonald

Marjorie and Mike Lane, Ruckle Heritage Farm

Abey and Matt Scaglione and sons, Ruckle Heritage Farm

the late Gwen Ruckle

Will Gerlach

Lotte Kristensen (Denmark)

the late Mac Rymal

Dr. Leila Kulpas

Karin (Marita) Jones

The Kuisma family (Finland)

Wendy and Derrick Milton

Gail Sjuberg

Tom and Linda James

Gwen Litchfield

Lisa Wolfe

Karen McDiarmid

Sharon Bailey and Robert McTavish

Tom Walker

Suzanne Archer

 the late Tom Martin

Jack Woodward (KC)

Len Brown

Paul Stewart

Rob Scheres

Bruce Wood

the late Bruce Creswick

Thorsten Baumeister (New Zealand)

Rob Pingle

Keith Picot

Mona Fertig

Harry Burton

Rachel Vadeboncoeur

Gillean Proctor

Lisa Lloyd

Amy Melious

Michela Sorrentino

Jan Smith

Wesley Clark

Eric McLay

Dave French and Kelly Waters

the late Marjorie Martin

the late Margaret Haines

Jaqueline Landeen and Pacino

Palu Rainbow Song

Murray a.k.a. as The Man with the Can

the late Thomas Ayers, Grade 5 teacher

Sheila Price, Grade 7 teacher

Lorne Tippett

Phyllis Haruko (Oikawa) Vavra

the late Tomoko (Toni) Oikawa

Lorna Cammaert

Richard Shanks

Neil and Beth England

Mrs. Larkin, New Westminster piano teacher from my childhood

the late Jean and James Campbell of Saturna Island

the late James Cameron Mavor 

the late Irene Johanna (Bedwell) Mavor

my late sister, Heather (Mavor) Carruthers

plus, a few name changes for real people

and me of course!

P.S. While focused on the writing, I hadn't realize how many people in the book have now departed this earthly realm. They are still very much alive in my memories.

Available only on Amazon 

https://www.amazon.ca/dp/1778354262

 

Memoir akin to therapy

Writing a memoir is a bit like therapy, except you have to decipher the meanings of experiences and thoughts and feelings all by yourself.

Just like in life when you wake up one day and think, MMM? I'm not so sure this is working and you take the leap to try therapy, it can be the same for memoir writing. You write stuff down, and then it's best to let it sit a day or two and you go back to it and then think, no, that's not what I meant to say. That sounds strange. There's more there. Try again. In the end, there may not be enough time in your lifetime to get it onto the page how you ultimately and ideally wished for. But it's the process that matters.

I'm not claiming I managed to finally get at the core of it in my soon to be released memoir about my time on Salt Spring, At One with an Island: Salt Spring Revisited, but towards the end, I was feeling as if I was getting a sense of that peeling the layers of an onion experience to a much greater degree than when I started.

Instead of just retelling an experience from Point A to Point B, there was a lot more questioning about the journey. Like why is Salt Spring so important to me? Why is Ruckle Park so significant to me? What about consistency of place now matters to me and why? 

I know that some say to write an interesting memoir, you have to touch upon the universal within your particular story. That may be one of the biggest challenges. Why should anyone care about your story at all? Well, they won't. Unless you can find a way to attach to something they might also be experiencing or have experienced, to unearth some nugget of universal truth; to provide some insight.

For the longest time, I used to hang on every word that successful writers shared about their writing process. In the past few years I've stopped doing that. 

It makes sense to just accept that you are truly on your own unique journey, no matter how many hangers-on you may or may not have along for the ride. Their journey is not yours. Other writers will undoubtedly have some nuggets of wisdom to share, but in the end, it's that unique understanding of your own inner world and your own personal history, finding courage, and exploiting the version that is yours and yours alone that you must get at to tell your own story.

And then, let the consequences fall where they may.

Love and Hate and Geography

I left Salt Spring a little more than a year ago. I packed up my stuff and left behind the panic that was rising inside me as another winter of being in a 450 sq. ft. cabin, alone, as the rain dropped ceaselessly, and the quiet closed in even more densely than the grey-white fog, descended.

I appreciated all that I'd learned from negotiating being on my own. But then again, I was always pretty good at that, I thought, until I reached the limit on Salt Spring, last year, at the end of October. I couldn't wait to get off the island. It wouldn't have mattered one bit to me if someone had screamed, "Don't let the ferry guardrail bump your bum on the way off" when I left more than ready.

If you live on an island, you probably have your own experience of how a confined geography can shape psychological space as well.

So, now, a little more than a year later, as I think about a friend who feels the same way and can't wait to leave an island that is her home, I can't help but think about how that's the way life is: cyclical. What attracts, repels, sometimes creeping up on us by surprise. And, when it strikes, somehow we're both surprised and have been expecting it.  If we listen to our feelings, regardless of how ugly they may be, we will eventually find our way back to what attracted us if we were truly in love in the first place.

I'm about to visit Salt Spring for a week-long visit next week, and now, I can't wait to return for a short visit.

I will visit Ruckle Park to make sure that I get the feelings right about that place as I'm about to write about it. That park is the reason I fell in love with the island so many years ago. I fell in love with the forest, the beach, the owls in the trees, the ewes and the turkeys, the light that bathes everything golden on an August morning, the auburn tree bark, the Ruckle Barn and heritage houses and the stillness of a full moon glimmering across the blue-black waves.

And, when I say that I think, well, isn't life just like that. The things we love, we can sometimes no longer bear. We do love our partner, really we do, but sometimes we can't bear them even one more minute, being in their presence, watching them chew their food.

We do love our job but we are sick to death of having to get up every morning and have to go to it and be around people that we have to because that's why they call it work, it comes with confines.

We do love our kids but sometimes, there's no way around it, they are a pain in the butt.

We do love our friends but sometimes we must keep them at arms-length for a while until the magic that first happened can, hopefully, be found again. Abracadabra.

And, when I find myself in that space, I always hear one of my favourite sayings: When the boat reaches the pier, everything will go straight.

Do you have a place that you consider your touchstone? If so, why?