Reality sunk in - yes, days of cycling had depleted my array of clothes to zilch: there was nothing for it except to acquire some coinage and hit the laundry.
Lounged around in the pool area whilst my wash did exactly that, listening to the fantastic new Tori Amos album "American Doll Posse". One of her best and a constant player on my iPod Nano. Tori Amos is a Goddess. My declaration makes it so.
Washing done and time to set the mind towards the next joy - my 10:30am appointment for a 1 hour massage! (Not free and not cheap, but paying makes it that much more enjoyable). Trundled off down to the Spa where I introduced myself and the cunningly employed (more later) cute girl gave me the run down on the procedure. Waltzed into the change rooms where I shed clothes, put on some strange sort of man skirt, covered this ridiculous garment with a robe and then more waltzing to the 'Steam Cave' to soften up prior to the massage session and waiting to be called for from within its recesses.
Disrobing, I entered the 'cave', which was empty, and sat down in my man skirt. The cave is situated under a waterfall and is lit internally via a roof skylight. Temperature was nice and hot, and a lovely little cold water fountain bubbled from a strategic fake rock stand in the middle of the 6 person sized circular cave. All seemed very pleasant. The waterfall under which the cave is situated can be seen in the pic below of part of Poet's Cove resort:
A young woman entered wearing a far more appropriate-for-her woman-dress, smiled and sat down. After a short while she remarked on something about it "not being that steamy" and proceeded outside the door, manipulated some switch and then re-entered. Within a short space of time thick steam started to billow and fall and envelope us and things became far less "pleasant".
I deduced from my pain and the scorched smell that this steam fell from an outlet which was directly connected to a water source piped straight from the heart of the sun! The fact that there was so much water around likely prevented me from instantaneously curling up and bursting into flame like a scrap of dry paper at a fireman's barbecue. Short story: it was hot! Stupidly I stayed in this chamber of hell for 15 minutes (the woman left about a nanosecond after she hit the switch), figuring I'd paid for it so...Other members of the group who commented later felt it was a typical sauna. My sheltered upbringing was patently obvious.
Having surprisingly survived the incinerator-of-death, I crisped back into the Spa and was deposited into a nice little room complete with massage table (phew!) and calming 'earth-worship' music. My masseuse entered, introduced herself, and proceeded to gently massage me to snooze land. Actually we chatted quite a lot - she was from a mid province of Canada, wanted to travel, settled here for a while etc. Very nice lady. At one point we spoke about the irony of her home province sometimes freezing at -30F whilst she directed ppl to fry in the steam cave crucible!
Suitably pliable, I wandered back to the showers, refreshed, and dressed. At the counter was the cute girl with a note from my masseuse re: a product that would assist with sore muscles, said product, and a charming smile. How lovely - a gift! Clearly my sparkling repartee had impressed. Settling the bill, the cute girl enquired how I would pay for the massage (my room charged please) and the product????? Bleh - man am I dumb! Still, it did work well!
So, then a bunch of us piled into the van to be driven to the take-off spot for the afternoon sea-kayaking. The skies had cleared, the temperature was balmy, and we felt sure the Orca pack had eaten its fill and gone off satiated.
Arriving at the spot, Otter bay, a delighful little sheltered bay and marina, the first task on hand was to have lunch, because obviously it makes sense to gorge as much as possible BEFORE going on the water! (You float when stuffed). Then, once suitably fattened (perhaps those Orca hadn't left the area?), we were fitted up and then entertained the various other non-kayaking shore dwellers with some crazy how-to-paddle (but we are on land?) demo.
Feeling slightly foolish, we piled into the kayaks (having previous experience I got the one that felt like its main purpose in life was to capsize) for a lovely, possibly lengthy, paddle around neighbouring bays. I say possibly lengthy because this is where things go a bit blank.
I remember at one point our nice guide pointed out some floating green seaweed, called it "sea lettuce", and factually stated you could eat it. Which I did. Why not? Day 5 mostly then vanished from my mind, along with the photos on my camera of it (I have no idea what happened).
My memory resurfaces with me back in my room, in the bath. I believe I went to a group party with others in Harvey and Tina's room later. I believe I ate dinner. I think I recall talking a bit with tour member Jim, an excellent guy who from the jokes associated with him, I took to be a pastor of some kind? That notwithstanding, I don't think he performed any exorcisms on me as I have no recollection of most of this evening and my obvious possession!
Sea lettuce should NOT be consumed. Here's a photo of some sea lettuce, out of water and adorning a piece of driftwood, taken the next day whilst I walked a rocky beach. I show this for your education - STAY AWAY FROM SEA LETTUCE - IT CAN STEAL YOUR MIND!
Next up, Day 5 stays gone, I skip a hike and wander along a beach post-lettuce feeling blue coz I must leave this trip to start another, some nice final day cycling for me, and trip on a ferry back to Vancouver.
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