Windy and warm in Vernon

We are all enjoying a lazy Sunday. I got back yesterday afternoon from four days of hiking around Sol Mountain Lodge with the VOC. I made it to the top of Mount Fosthall, the highest peak in the Monashees, one day, so I'm happy to do very little today.  Jay has been working hard in the extreme heat we've been having. His legs cramped so badly one night that the pain had him dancing around the bedroom like a dervish. May was laughing her head off because he looked funny. The next day he had to leave work at noon because of  cramping. Since then he's been drinking a lot of water, eating bananas and feeling better, just tired because as well as his regular work he's doing a private job. May has lots of weird shifts at the casino, and the girls have been doing a whole bunch of nothing. Today we're all doing that. 

My holiday at Sol Mountain Lodge was wonderful. About 20 of us drove 21/2 hours up from Revelstoke in trucks on a really rough logging road. We parked the trucks and hiked 1.9km to the lodge. In the winter you have to go in and out by helicopter. The lodge is plain but comfortable, the staff is friendly and the cook is a wonder. He trained in Charlottetown. His food was tasty, healthy, artfully 'plated' and practically waste free. It was a treat to be able to spend four days doing nothing but hike with friends in spectacular back country.  Some of us swam for a few seconds in Sol Lake one day. Getting to the top of Fosthall on the second day took everything I had, so on the other days I took easier hikes. A highlight of every day was the late afternoon sauna. It was such big one that even though it had an airtight stove to heat it, it never got as hot as ours used to, but it was enough so that after a dry session, cold outdoor shower, wet sauna and second shower, you were feeling no pain.  On the first day Mo and I were alone, but each day we got more converts.  My iPhone camera stopped working on the first day, so I couldn't take pictures. I hope some people will send me theirs.  

On the way to Mount Fosthall

Mount Fosthall

The VOC on Fosthall. It is the highest peak in the Manashees. When Jim and I first came to Vernon we skied at Silver Star.  We arrived in the condo we had rented at night so saw nothing, but in the morning when I opened the curtains I was overwhelmed by the sight of the luminous snow capped mountains in the distance.  Jim said they were the Monashees.  Now I have been to the top of the highest mountain in that range.  It's not a classic looking peak, and although I was exhausted by the time we got back to the lodge, it was not a difficult hike, but I felt I had come full circle to a certain extent.

The whole gang outside Sol Mountain Lodge

Back with Barbara and Terry

It's blackberry season in Victoria.  Last year Bill, Sharon and I biked by some patches on the Galloping Goose near the end of July, but this year it's the height of the season right now.  None of the wild berries is as big and sweet as the ones you buy.  In fact a lot of them are sour, but I'm getting better at picking only those that are soft, black, shiny and not so far into the bush that the deadly thorns draw blood as I pull my arm back.

For the first time since I biked with dad about 15 years ago, I went along the shore roads from Barbara and Terry's in Vic West to the house that Liz and Ross rented in Cadboro Bay.  It was a good change from the Galloping Goose.  Drivers in downtown Victoria and along Dallas Road and Beach Drive go slowly and are used to sharing the road with bikers.  On the ride back I went into almost every road and path that led to the ocean and walked the beaches a bit.  I really enjoyed that. 

Every time I go out in the kayak I learn something new.  Last time it was raising the seat with some styrofoam and this time I finally figured out how to adjust the seat so that I am not sitting too far forward.  Since my first impulse is to do something the wrong way, one of my greatest sources of delight is eventually discovering the right way and for a brief thrilling moment thinking I've invented the wheel.  This time I paddled up the Gorge to a bridge where the water swirled so much that I chickened out, turned around and went back to the inner harbour.

Staying with Barbara and Terry is the usual wonderful holiday.  They've had quite a few friends and relatives staying with them this summer.  On my first day here I joined them for a delicious lunch of leftovers, a lot of good things that remained after their last guests had left.  Yesterday, we drove to Saxe Point Park and then went out for lunch.

The Walkerton Van de Vyveres provide the big news.  Brian had a mild stroke in July but is recovering well at home now and David and Dana have a daughter, Leah.  She was born in the early morning of Aug.8 and weighed 9.03 lbs.

A gilt gate and wedding cake fountain in Uplands

Me with my bike in James Bay Park at the tree where we took Jay's picture when he was 5 and 15

A heron I drifted up to in my Kayak near the shipyard on the Gorge

Barbara and Terry at Saxe Point Park

Leah Van de Vyvere

Waiting for the 4:00pm ferry to Victoria

It's been a perfect day for a drive to Victoria, and now I just have a one hour wait for the next ferry. I'm sitting against a parched looking poplar, under a clear, blue sky. There's a breeze off the ocean that's fresh and only tainted occasionally by diesel fumes as transports pass.  People are calmly waiting around after a hectic drive.  There was quite a bit of traffic between Hope and here. The PetroCan in Hope was packed; I had to back into the one space left.  People looked harried both there and at the McDonald's where I stopped for a medium Americano, which wasn't bad for $2.50.  It and the apparently contagious spirit of rush kept me awake all the way here, so for the first time ever on this trip I didn't take a nap in Hope.  Driving in BC in summer, like old age, is not for the faint of heart.  But now I'm metaphorically in "port after stormy sea".  And the sea ahead looks calm.  

Jay is finding some faults in the running of On Side, but is still a willing worker.  May has worked enough shifts at the Casino to have been given more responsibility and let in on some of the gossip.  The girls continue to rest up for the fall; although May has been giving them more and more housework to do and controlling her urges to redo the things that don't quite meet her standards.

What a wonderful ride on the ferry.  I owe a lot to mom and dad and Babara and Terry for giving me a reason to take it so often.  It now costs $63.15, one way for a senior. Sometimes that seems like a lot, but at this moment, sitting on a bench on the starboard side, in a breeze that is a buffeting wind at the bow, watching the dark green islands sitting in the sea with the sun's light brilliant in front of them and the distant hills dark beyond, iced in a thin line of white clouds beneath a pastel blue sky, I can't count the cost.  Neither my words nor my poor old iPhone 4S camera can do it justice.  Soon I'll be walking up and down the docks at the Oak Bay Marina as the sun goes down.  It's the only marina I know of that is completely unlocked.  Anyone can wander around among the boats.  The first time I remember doing it was years ago with dad.  We were having fun commenting on the names of the boats.  One raised his ire.  It was 'We're here'.  I had just been thinking it was not a bad name for a boat that sailed from port to port when dad scoffed," I'll give you a dollar for the sexual orientation of the owner of that boat".   He followed this with a brief chant of, "We're here.  We're queer."  He'd had enough of pride parades in Victoria.  This reminded me of mom's anger over the fact that homosexuals had made her word 'gay' their own.  The 'Gay Girls' who played bridge every Thursday were now just 'The Girls' and she wasn't happy about it.  By their mid 80s they readily admitted that the world was a strange place to them.  My dad never was able to tolerate even the smell of garlic but he did finally and reluctantly recognize that Canada was now full of people who actually ate it.  My mother never accepted the fact that you could wear anything you wanted anywhere, even joggers and things that looked like pyjamas in an airport. And these people even hugged their pillow under their arm as they sprawled over the floors and chairs of the waiting room playing with their 'devices' as they awaited their flights. She and dad had dressed in suit, tie and fur coat to go to the evening hockey games in Thunder Bay in the 50s.  They had nothing to do with computers and only a tenuous hold on the tv remote.  It's just over a year since mom died and returning to Victoria fills me with memories of them, even the things that drove me crazy come back as stories that make me smile, better remembered than lived through.  

The South Korean military band at the Vernon Military Tattoo.  They were the hit of the show for me and many of the others there.  As you can see, they don't fit the stereotype of a military band; they had dancers, acrobats and a weird two man animal, as well as screeching horns that weren't as stirring as bagpipes but were almost as loud and potentially irritating.  Koreans are a strange mix of regimentation and whimsy.  

May and I picked these apricots from a friend's tree one evening last week. It was fun, but we couldn't eat them all so I made two kinds of jam and ruined the last ones by trying to dry them without a real fruit dryer.