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British Columbia

Masters of the Pacific Coast

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Photo by Andy Dawson ReidI have endeavoured within these jottings over the past four and more years to record at least some information that might be of use to others contemplating relocating from their various loci on the planet – to Canada… and in particular to the Pacific northwest. I have not been alone in doing this, of course, there being plentiful sources of such information on the InterWebNet.

It strikes me that this combined pool of knowledge might find itself increasingly in demand as the uncertain political situation in the UK and in Europe continues to evolve. Should this November’s election south of the border here produce the outcome that all sane men and women must surely be praying could never happen, interest in this idyllic corner of the globe might sky-rocket.

Of course – this ‘public service’ is only a part of the brief that I set myself when inaugurating my own humble ramblings. One of the main reasons for continuing to record our progress, as we departed the English home-counties and commenced the long process of settling in on the coast of British Columbia, is to better inform our loved-ones, our friends and those with whom we have become acquainted over the years on either side of the pond, about the places in which we have been fortunate enough to reside and of the peoples who live there.

Whilst yet in England I tried to give a flavour of life there for those who live in Canada and elsewhere. Now that we are in B.C. I do my best to provide a balanced and compelling – if inevitably partial – descriptive and visual depiction of this beautiful part of the world for all those who have an interest therein.

With this mission in mind I was delighted to find the other day – on the BBC’s fourth TV channel, BBC4 – the first of a two-part documentary by British Museum archaeologist Dr. Jago Cooper, entitled ‘Masters of the Pacific Coast: The Tribes of the American Northwest‘. This exquisitely filmed programme muses upon the extraordinary resilience of the indigenous peoples of the Pacific northwest who have evolved an intricate and sophisticated culture over a 10,000 year period – without ever ‘resorting’ to agriculture!

The programme is fascinating and delightful and offers a good picture of the history of this rugged coast. More information may be gleaned from this review by Marina Vaizey on theartsdesk.com, and the first part of the documentary can be found on the BBC iPlayer – for those who have access to such. The final part will be shown on BBC4 this Thursday – 4th August.

Were the film to do no more than to offer images of the ravishing beauty of this land I would find myself quite choked up thereby. It is, of course, much more that just that as The Arts Desk review attests:

“The programme did with an ease of manner what television in Reithian mode can do so well: deliver a plethora of unfamiliar facts anchored by the amiable charm of a scholarly presenter, made memorable by endless scenes of beautiful wilderness and occasional surprises.”

I firmly recommend catching this documentary before it disappears from the iPlayer.

Erratum – I see that the second part was on today, Wednesday 3rd. Sorry about that. Thank goodness for the iPlayer!

Island life

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I liked this little sequence of images. The truck crane is used on the smaller islands for building projects and all concerned are so familiar with the procedure that the whole event took less than three minutes – following which tug, barge and truck disappeared in different directions.

Neat!

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson Reid

Waiting for the Big One

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Image by Wolfi Korn (Cartoonist Illustrator)The wine’s all drunk and so am I
Here with the hoi-poloi, don’t ask me why
We’re celebratin’ anticipatin’; end of the year
everybody come, everybody here
– well more or less
Some already in a mess
I guess they’re waiting for the big one.”

Peter Gabriel – “Waiting for the Big One”

Plus ça change!

A little over a year ago I used a very similar title and exactly the same graphic and Peter Gabriel lyric to introduce a post concerning the year into which we had just nervously stumbled. We knew then – without a shadow of a doubt – that a year hence we would be seeing life very differently.

It will not surprise the gentle reader, therefore, that I should use a similar introduction now for a totally different topic.

A feature of life on the Pacific Northwest coast that really doesn’t register until one actually resides there is the fact that one is living in an earthquake zone! I knew before we came here that this would be so because the Kickass Canada Girl told me repeatedly that it was so. I am, of course, a chap – and as with many things that chaps are told that don’t seem to have an immediate relevance I did what chaps traditionally do and filed the ‘fact’ away somewhere in what Sherlock Holmes called the Mind Palace – as being something of vague interest but having no direct import.

I can sense those of you who live on the coast tutting piteously at this point and rolling your eyeballs noisily, but I can assure you that those from ‘sheltered’ parts of the planet will be racking their brains now for dimly remembered references from Hollywood movies or nasty Channel 5 documentaries to glean some idea as to what this might mean. Clearly many millions of people – including the Girl herself – have lived for a considerable number of decades in this part of the world in complete safety.

To gain a clearer picture do please have a look at this most useful earthquake tracking site.

It may surprise you nearly as much as it did me to observe that one of the most recent events listed thereon is a 4.8 magnitude earthquake with its epicentre 52 kilometres beneath North Saanich.

“Hold on” – you cry. “North Saanich? Isn’t that where you live?”

Well yes – it is… though because the Girl and I are currently in Kamloops in the interior of BC we got to hear about the quake in much the same way as most other British Coumbians – by reading about it on the news. Our friends in Saanichton were awoken at around midnight by a sudden shock.

“What the f**k was that?” – she enquired sleepily.

“Earthquake” – he replied, rolling over and going back to sleep.

OK – he got into trouble for that, but the point remains… British Columbians are sufficiently used to such apparently minor happenings that they pretty much ignore them. As one commentator wrote after the event (I paraphrase):

“How many rushed out the next day to update their Earthquake Kits? How many actually have Earthquake Kits? I have – it’ a bottle of single malt!”

The probable reason for this almost English-like complacency is that these frequent minor quakes usually cause very little damage and are apparently no indicators of – nor have any relevance regarding – that which is at the back of everybody’s mind – the Big One! In common with the whole of the west coast of the North American continent British Columbia is (not) holding its breath for the forthcoming major cataclysm – which is due any century now!

In the meantime I rather liked the caption – which has I know been used before – in a local paper. It read:

“Vancouver Island 2015… We will not forget… We will rebuild!”

…over a picture of a fallen garbage bin!

Rowena’s Inn on the River

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We broke our Boxing Day journey up to snowy Kamloops (where the temperatures continue to be a bracing minus ten celsius!) at Harrison Mills, the which is situated toward the top of the broader part of the Fraser Valley between Mission and Hope (fabulous – no?) before one hits the mountains and takes to the canyon or to the high passes.

We spent a lovely night at Rowena’s Inn on the River which I cannot recommend highly enough to travellers in these parts. This beautiful old lodge is still owned by the Pretty family who built it (their history being revealed in photos throughout the house) and who now run it as a boutique B & B with a really rather good restaurant alongside to boot. Apart from anything else the place is clearly a twitchers’ paradise (see below)!

As ever – here be some photos…

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson Reid

Year ending…

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Photo by Andy Dawson Reidyear-end also year·end (yîr′ĕnd′)
n.
The end of a year: the value of the account at year-end.
adj.
Occurring or done at the end of the year: a year-end audit.

It is at this time of the year that the Girl and I habitually sit down and look back over the events that have unfolded throughout the preceeding twelve months. It is always good to take stock of what has (or has not) been accomplished and to use this as spur to encourage us onward toward the nascent season ahead.

It need hardly be said that the year just ending has been – to put it mildly – epic! We have retired from the world of work. We have sold up and closed down our existence in the United Kingdom. I have become a Permanent Resident of Canada. We have moved across an ocean and a continent. We have purchased a house. We have instigated the lengthy and complex process of setting up a new life here on the west coast of British Columbia.

Given that all of this is the culmination of a five year project it would not be at all surprising were we to be somewhat overwhelmed by the massive changes that our little lives have undergone. In the event the happenings of the last couple of months have added a momentum of their own which has imbued the end of the year with yet another unexpected twist.

I have already alluded in cryptic manner to an issue that has arisen concerning our house purchase that has required the intervention of the legal profession. As the matter is ongoing I cannot at this stage tell all. Suffice to say that there is an issue with the property that was not disclosed at the time of the sale – though it was known about. Given that considerable expense will now be required to resolve the matter, we are seeking – and are most hopeful of achieving – a suitable settlement with the vendors.

Then – a week before Christmas – we suffered a bereavement. When the Girl’s mother died when she was in her early teens, her mother’s best friend – an honorary aunt – stepped in and effectively raised her from that point on. Such was the robust nature of this exceptional lady that – though well into her eighties – we believed that she might live forever. She was always exceedingly kind and generous to us and we will both miss her terribly. For the Girl this is, naturally, a particularly difficult time.

The Girl was grateful that – by catching the 5:30am flight out of Victoria the Sunday before Christmas – she was able to reach the hospital in Kamloops (her birthplace) in time to say goodbye. She returned to Victoria on the afternoon of Christmas Eve, we entertained on Christmas Day and – early the next morning – took the ferry to the mainland and drove back into the snowy interior of BC for the memorial service. The Girl is joint executor to the estate and we will have to stay in Kamloops for a while helping to sort everything out.

All in all, not how we expected this momentous year to end. Regardless we wish all gentle readers a very Happy New Year, and a prosperous – not to mention hopefully calm – 2016.

 

 

 

 

Stormy weather

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Photo by Andy Dawson ReidThe recent storm that has troubled parts of the UK has been brought to my attention by the ever helpful BBC website on the InterWebNet. This storm is the second to have been considered powerful enough by the Met Office to have been given a name under their new classification system – though it must be said that compared to ‘Hurricane Joaquin‘ and ‘Typhoon Champi‘ – ‘Storm Barney‘ does sound a little – well – feeble! (My apologies here to any who have suffered damage or inconvenience. I certainly don’t mean to make light of your troubles).

It is marginally by coincidence – this being November on both sides of the Atlantic – that the past few days have also seen the first real storm of the season here on Vancouver Island.

It was only this morning that we could – for the first time in a week and then but briefly – make out Mount Baker through the cloud cover. For the last few days we have been ‘socked in’ – as the parlance has it (according to the Kickass Canada Girl) – and it has both rained heavily and at considerable length and blown half a gale for good measure.

In our little spot on the east side of the peninsula we seem to be quite well protected from the winds but there is still a considerable quantity of detritus on the roads and in our yards (UK: gardens!) from the evergreens. I guess this is just nature’s way of whittling out the dead (not to mention the weak and the feeble) wood before winter really sets in. We also seem to have had a bumper fall of pine needles this year – possibly because the summer was so dry.

The other sign that storm season has arrived manifested on the dot of midday yesterday – when the power went out! One rapidly realises once resident in BC that, in rural areas in particular, virtually all power cables are above ground on poles – and that there are also a lot of very tall conifers around. Add wind to the mix and the outcome is hardly surprising.

The helpful man at BC Hydro told us that the estimated time to fix (“It’s because of the storm” – “No kidding!”) was eight o’ clock in the evening. In the event the power was back by five – but by then we had packed up our lunch makings and scurried over to our good friends’ farm in Saanichton to commit an act of piracy on their kitchen.

We are in the process of having natural gas laid on (they should be doing the install tomorrow) and we are aiming to get a gas log fire for the drawing room and a gas range for the kitchen. We will then at least be able to cook and to keep warm should there be further outages…

…which is – according to the Girl – highly likely.

“Welcome to Victoria” – she muttered wryly!

Full house

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Photo by Andy Dawson ReidThree months and eleven days have elapsed since I landed in British Columbia clutching my Confirmation of Permanent Residency (COPR) documentation.

In this post – dating from a few days before we left the UK in July – I mused upon the unsettlingly stateless limbo in which we found ourselves at that point, having divested ourselves of all of those accoutrements by which one’s existence is normally defined.

As documented a few days subsequent to our arrival in Victoria I had rapidly commenced the task of constructing a new Canadian identity. It has taken a while but I am delighted to report that the process is now pretty much complete.

Over the past few weeks a variety of critical markers – in the form of credit card sized identity cards – have dropped into our Community Mailbox…

A digression for non-Canadians… Until recently the majority of inhabitants of this brave young country were blessed – as we yet are in the UK – with a postal service that provided door to door deliveries. Now – for all of the usual painful reasons – that service is being curtailed. Even since we took up residence in our North Saanich home the familiar sight of the year-round shorts-appareled post person has been replaced by a roadside stack of ‘Community Mailboxes’ for which we have all been issued keys. In our case this now means a quarter of a mile trek up the road – in all weathers naturally – to see if we have mail. That’s ‘progress’… and indeed ‘service’!

Enough! Back to identity cards. I have recently taken delivery of the following:

  • my Permanent Resident card. Hooray! I now officially exist.
  • a permanent Driver’s License – to replace the temporary document that I have been toting around with me.
  • my British Columbia Services Card. This precious piece of plastic signifies that I have now not only met the residency requirements for eligibility but am a fully paid up member of the BC Medical Services Plan (MSP).

I think it is now safe to say that I am no longer a non-person.

Salt Spring 1

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Photo by Andy Dawson ReidI promised a few posts back that I would write something about Saltspring (or Salt Spring as the locals apparently prefer it) Island, whence we scurried for a soothing lost weekend before our busy moving-in week.

The expanse of water that lies between Vancouver Island and the mainland – the Georgia Straight – is studded with an archipelago of islands of a diverse assortment of sizes. The more southerly group of these – the Juan de Fucas – lies across the border in the U.S. Those to the north comprise the Gulf Islands which are part of British Columbia. This range of islands is one of the big attractions of the area as far as I am concerned and I intend to spend a fair amount of my time therein upon my as yet unrealised boat – once is has been… er… realised!

The Gulf Islands have a somewhat other-worldly feel to them which is only exacerbated by their being smaller islands off the coast of a larger island – which in turn lies just off the coast of the Canadian mainland. The good inhabitants of Vancouver Island already see themselves as somehow different to British Columbians from the interior and the Gulf Islanders go a whole giant stride further. The closest parallels I can think of – for those who have absolutely no idea what I am blethering on about – are such mildly alternative settlements as St Ives or Glastonbury in the UK – or Tofino in BC. Hopefully you get the idea.

Salt Spring is the largest of the Gulf Islands and the closest to Vancouver Island. The ferry thence from Swartz Bay (but 10 minutes drive from our new abode) takes only 35 minutes and some of that is taken up by the usual jostling for position that is de rigueur in any ferry port before loading or unloading can begin.

Salt Spring has a higher than average population of creatives (including some really quite well known figures) in addition to what might best be described as a healthy cabal of new-ageists… You know – granola munchers, tofu tokers and suchlike! As a result the island positively vibrates with yoga retreaters, livers off the land and no end of artists and crafters. There is a massively popular Saturday market each week in the largest village – the delightful Ganges – at which all manner of home crafted delights may be purchased. The standard of goods on display is astonishing and it is little surprise to learn that Salt Spring has an international reputation across a fair range of fields.

Ganges – incidentally – was once called Admiralty Bay but was renamed in 1859, taking its name from HMS Ganges which was at the Pacific Station from 1857 – 1860 under the command of Captain John Fulford… after whom the small port on the south end of the island is named. Thus are the origins of many of the names of settlements and geological features on the west coast of Canada; a rich palette with surprisingly prosaic roots.

Should you feel that my tone regarding the Gulf Islands – and Salt Spring in particular – is a little too flip or cynical, I plead that I merely jest from affection. I quickly fell in love with Salt Spring but – as is also the case with St Ives and Glastonbury – I wouldn’t want to live there. (The same is not actually true of Tofino, but we all have our weaknesses!).

By way of recompense I will post some glorious images of Salt Spring in my next post.

Converted

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image from Pixabay

Way back in the very earliest days of this blog I posted this missive. The main thrust of the piece (aside from providing me with an opportunity to effect an introduction to ‘Pearl‘, my gorgeous and much missed Mercedes 300SL) was to ruminate upon the Englishman’s love of – almost fetish for – his (or her) open-topped automobile. This I duly did at my usual length.

Much later – of course – the Kickass Canada Girl finally succumbed to the Anglo-Saxon obsession herself and purchased her very own ragtop roadster. She enjoyed the top-down experience so much that she determined – on our arrival upon these shores – to seek in short order another similar vehicle.

Hunting through advertisements from various online sources before we left the UK left us with the very distinct impression that our search in Victoria for a Miata (as most British Columbians still refer to them) might not be a brief one. This did not altogether surprise me, for had I not written in my original post on the subject:

“Which leads me to this observation… My perception, rightly or wrongly, is that – for a state that has a mild climate and considerably more days of sunshine than we do in the UK – British Columbians do not seem particularly keen on open top motoring. Yes, there are enthusiasts, but nowhere near the numbers that we see in England. Pickups are all well and good, but – for me – just do not hold the same appeal.“

Recent readers will be aware that – counter to our expectation – the Girl effected the location and purchase of a good low-mileage MX-5 within a week of our arrival in BC. I put this down in the first instance to our newly rediscovered good fortune, but I have since been driven to revise this opinion. In this glorious Victorian summer (with apologies to those of you in the UK) it has become apparent that convertible usage at this end of Vancouver Island is as high as it is in the south of England. Indeed, the Mazda MX-5 is to be found here in greater numbers than just about anywhere else I know.

How to explain this shift in perception – this somewhat embarrassing revision to a publicly stated former view? I can think of only two possibilities:

  • there has been a dramatic increase in soft-top ownership in Victoria since my earlier posting in 2012…

…or:

  • Victorians – unlike the Brits – only dust down and bring out their convertibles when the sun is well and truly shining. There is none of the mad-March scramble at the first hint of a break in the cloud-cover that is so prevalent in the Home Counties.

Well – I am sure that I do not know the correct interpretation. All I do know is that this is yet another sure sign that the Girl and I have relocated to the right part of the world!

 

Arts and crafts – 1

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Image by Upyernoz on Creative Commons Free ImagesLest I should leave the gentle reader with the impression that all of our time here on the west coast of Canada is currently taken up with explorations into hardwood flooring (well – some of it is!) or trying to find the perfect bathtub…

…actually, I must needs digress at this point. What springs to mind when one thinks of the normal Canadian chap (settle down at the back there!)? Yes – that’s right – a tall, swarthy outdoor type who climbs mountains for fun, drives around in a huge pickup, hunts wild animals and skates and rows and skis, etc, etc.

So – what sort of bathtub might you expect such a specimen to require? Yes – so did I, but the standard Canadian bathtub is a mere five foot long and no more than about twelve inches deep! Scarcely enough to dampen one’s… well – you get the idea. Should you require the sort of soaker that we Brits demand – at least five foot five (if not six foot) long and a good twenty two inches deep – then one is looking at a special order. Weird – huh?

Where was I?

Ah yes – culture!

I thought I would regale you with some of the cultural and artistic events that we have attending since landing in BC. Victoria is a really buzzing place and there is a pretty constant schedule of interesting stuff with which to get involved. Should the island not provide enough stimulation on its own it is but a hop and a step to either Vancouver or Seattle.

Anyway – this is what we have been up to:

On the first day of our trip to the interior we stopped in Vancouver, partly to conduct some business but also to visit the Bill Reid Gallery. For those who know nothing about this seminal figure of west coast First Nations art I commend to you the ‘About Bill Reid’ section of the above site. Should you further wish to see an example of Bill Reid’s exquisite sculpture then you need look no further than the facsimile of ‘The Raven and the First Men’ that you will find the top of this post.

The current exhibition at the Bill Reid Gallery – ‘The Box of Treasures’ – features amongst other wonders the extraordinary masks of Beau Dick – whom I have eulogised before in this post entitled ‘A sense of place’.

I most strongly recommend both artists to you – as I do the gallery, should you find yourself in Vancouver.

Much of our cultural month – however – has been given over to the arts dramatic. More – much more – of that in part two of this post.

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