After much indecision, I made the choice to extend stay, figuring a) the weather was horrible back “home” and a midnight ride in snow would be a grotesque way to end the trip, b) I shouldn’t spend my birthday in transit stress, c) it was supposed to be a beautiful weekend, d) the car and timeshare having been paid for through the 12th, it’d cost me only about C$200 to extend for two more days and e) with all the running around I’d been doing, I was dog-tired.
Seems like at least part of vacation should be, well, vacation.
Plus, the original schedule back would have meant leaving the resort at around 6:30 AM: when I made my flight reservations, I hadn’t factored in the 6 hours needed between there and actual flight time: 1 hour for driving to the ferry to be there half an hour before boarding, 2 hours for the ferry trip, 1 hour from ferry to rental place to airport, and 2 hours lead time at the airport.
I wanted to do a ferry to one or more of the islands between Vancouver Island and the mainland; the front desk suggested the Northern Gulf Islands Denman and Hornby, easily reachable from the resort via either routes 19 or 19A.
The BC ferries don’t go to Hornby directly. You have to take the ferry to Denman, then cross the island to the opposite side to the Hornby ferry.
I talked with a Pater Familias who owned a vacation home on Hornby; he and his wife were on their way to plan their daughter’s wedding.
On the boat to Denman, a young man asked if I could give him a lift. Turns out that he owns 2 houses on an acre each, an inheritance from his godfather which has been held in trust until his 18th birthday 3 weeks ago.
On the way to Denman, I saw a little seal, bobbing up and down in the water, Orca style. Closer to the harbor, a little girl called in delight when she spotted a loon.
My young companion said it was rare for that stretch of water to be so calm; it’s considered the most dangerous part of the Strait of Juan de Fuca. We had a pleasant chat across Denman island, and then in the car for the 10-minute crossing to Hornby.
He said he’d been working in construction since he was 13, so he was confident, but not in an arrogant way, in his ability to maintain two houses. I was impressed by his maturity and his knowledge of tenancy law, finding it hard to imagine that there are very many American teenagers who could handle that kind of responsibility.
I met a couple of other interesting hitchhikers on Hornby, both older gentlemen. “Timmy” told me his son was born at Beth Israel Hospital while he was managing the Reading International bookstore in Harvard Square. He came to Hornby for a weekend visit 35 years ago and never left.
The other gent had a similar story, came for a short-term job, liked it, stayed. He makes do with seasonal work at the local restaurant and odd jobs the rest of the year. He approved of the timing of my visit, said it was the best season to be here, not so many tourists.
By the time I got back to Denman, I’d pretty much had my fill of beaches (the only physical feature which is clearly bested by the Cape) and views of the mountains, so decided to stay in “town” for an hour or so.
I found a coffee house run by an extremely pleasant proprietess – coincidentally, a friend of Timmy’s – who invited me to join her friends on the lawn, a group of locals who get together every Saturday to sing and play. They are an amazingly talented group of musicians, and she asked them to do a chorus of “Happy Birthday”, one of the few times I’ve ever heard a group sing that particular ditty with everyone in tune.
I got to talk to a couple of them, both relocatees from Manitoba. I said to one that it was wonderful that he was able to make a living in such a beautiful place.
He looked surprised and paused for a second before he answered: “I don’t think about making a living, but making a life”.