Part 1: Cycling the Canadian Gulf Islands - Day 5.

Layover day - yeah! I blatantly disregarded the specified breakfast time and slept in for a bit before wandering down to survey the carnage caused by the scavenging sub-pack of our group who had arrived early in prep for their morning sea-kayak (I was in the arvo time-slot). Picking over visible remnants, I contented myself with the thought that whilst they would be out there on the vicious morning sea freezing their arses (yes that's how we spell and say it in Australia) and vainly fighting off vast herds of voracious Orca with their feeble paddles, I would be ensconced in luxury doing my...WASHING???

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.

Part 1: Cycling the Canadian Gulf Islands - Day 4.

This time the Lavender room played no part in my early waking - a planned hike up Mt Galliano caused the setting of an alarm that blasted me from sweet sleep at some ungodly hour (6:00am I think).

So, pre-breakfast (in retrospect I should've eaten something) a bunch of us piled into the van to be carted to the foot of a peak that wouldn't be out of place in the ranges of Nepal, forced out of the van at gunpoint and whipped up, growling and cursing, the sheer side of this monster. Actually, we clambered out and followed Marty up the reasonable slope for 50 minutes to a magnificent view on a rather cold peaktop. (Hint to self - don't wear cotton when you sweat and then stand in sub-arctic winds!) On the way up I had a chat with Barry, a real up guy with a big personality and a zest for life. His optimistic attitude really got me thinking about how one makes one's own choices in life.

Lovely view, group pics and a brisk walk down later (my 92kgs felt like a tonne being sucked down by gravity and my quads bitched about it silently all the way) we arrived back at the Inn for brekky - thank god, as my stomach was consuming itself! Here's a less-than-awesome pic of the view from Mt Galliano - it got quite grey overhead. My pics didn't do it justice:



Another lovely breakfast later, it was back to the packing of luggage for the preparation of removal to the van thereof. This was the one part of touring that I'm not crazy about - the fact that we stayed two days at Woodstone Inn on Galliano meant we received a one day reprieve from this boring task. Mind you, here's me complaining when it's up to our guides Marty and Ric to actually cart to and stuff all these bags into the van!

Bag packing meant our two overnights and stay at Woodstone Country Inn was over. I enjoyed this place immensely (ignominy of the 'Lavender' room notwithstanding!) - great atmosphere, nice big room, quiet, superbly clean, great grounds, and with excellent staff and superb meals. Highly recommended! Below is a pic of the front (or back?) of this lovely Inn:



Our initial plans for today were a short ride (4km) to the ferry terminal for a trip to our new island North Pender. I recalled this short bike trip well from the previous day - it's the one all downhill on which I wasn't meant to continue past the Inn! Still all the more kms logged.

After the usual hang-around at the terminal, we piled on board the ferry for the (two hour?) trip to our new habitat. On the way had a nice chat with Michael, Steve and Nancy. Michael is a very interesting chap - lives on an island community, is very community and civic minded and active, and appears to have done tons of things in life including wood-carving. Steve and Nancy are a couple, both very intelligent and with a great deal of life experience. Steve looks like an early 50's Paul Newman which I pointed out - from his less than surprised reaction I surmised he'd likely heard this about a million times! It was during this lively conversation (in which as per my usual M.O. I said little and listened lots for fear of making a chump of myself) that it became clear that, on this tour, I was surrounded by interesting, life-experienced and altogether smart people. It made me realise that my own slightly insular personality may deprive me of more such experiences in my life. I reflected on one of my motivations for doing this tour - meeting people via gentle persuasion: it was working and I wasn't looking like a total dick!

Arriving at Pender North, we were given complex instructions about the route to the lunchtime meeting location, pointed toward the road, and told to go! Well, this being a recipe for disaster for me, I resolved to stick closely with people who had route guides! And so off we went.

Some hours later the group arrived at the designated spot by some unknown slice of luck - I swear that the use of route guides mixed in with half a dozen ppl all reading what appeared to be entirely different instructions was far worse than just blundering off in any direction! Amazingly enough, even I, the only person without a guide, managed to be implicated as a cause of the confusion! Bah - route notes, who needs 'em! It's an island - go too far and you hit water!

Actually, whilst there were a few minor dramas we pretty much arrived on schedule in a relatively short space of time. The ride itself around most of North Pinder was great: acceptably undulating terrain, twisty bits including a doozy of a downhill switchback, lovely semi-rural scenery, the lively banter of a cohesive travel group squabbling over where the hell we were and where the hell we were heading etc etc. What cycling's all about! cycling these islands was becoming addictive.

Our lunchtime destination was the charmingly named Thieves Bay. Chief amongst its charms, and a possible reason behind its naming, was the sign declaring that any 'violater' (chilling in itself) parked beyond a certain point was threatened with immediate impound and tow: perhaps a bunch of pirate ghosts emerged dripping from the water and dragged said violater back in with them? See threatening pic below:



The real reason for its name soon became apparent to me: I sauntered with my newly acquired sandwich down to the water's edge to take a pic of some geese bobbing contentedly. Several of these creatures emerged from the water and approached in a friendly manner. The subsequent offering of a small portion of my sandwich to one was gratefully accepted by the beast, upon which its peers decided they wanted to get in on the act. Given that I was quite hungry and felt I had done my bit at solidifying the bond between man and goose I refused further advances. One of the things then advanced at me and proceeded to attempt to re-arrange parts of my groin! Letting out a short squeal (dare I say it) like a girl, I flung the sandwich into the water, upon which the entire flock turned tail after the prize. SO! The bastard creatures had put the sting on me! Freakin' Thieves Bay indeed! I sauntered casually back to the lunch table giving away nothing - no-one had seen my ultimate shame! Nor did they hear of it - until now! Here's a pic of the marauding pack of shyster geese - vicious looking bastards who are far larger than they appear in this pic!:



After regaining my dignity and filling my stomach, I wandered around the Bay and accompanying marina taking what are likely some of the most uninspired and crappy photos extant: not only had the Bay stole my dignity, it had pissed off with my creativity as well! These photos shall not sully this blog - they can however been seen, along with all the other crappy photos of the tour I took, at:

Cycling the Canadian Gulf Islands

Subsequent to lunch, instructions indicated that we proceed to our new accommodation at Poet's Cove via a simple set of directions. Remembering the total chaos of the morning ride, I resolved to head off on my own, committed the simple guide notes to memory and promptly proceeded in an entirely wrong direction! There was a lake where none should be - a lake solid with more bastard geese eyeing me off no less - and some signs naming roads that had no basis in reality for being there. Surely this map was wrong? Of course not! - my innate sense of direction was working and I was completely off course!

So, I made my way back from whence I'd come (luckily I have great visual recognition skills) and soon found a small group of my brethren apparently correctly reading their maps, and tagged on for a lovely rolling-terrain ride (including the crossing of a one-lane bridge linking the North and South Islands and a final great twisty descent) into Poet's Cove.

Wow! - Poet's Cove is a compact five star resort tucked into a superb little bay named Bedwell Harbour, beautifully presented and maintained, with spectacular views across the water. I was loving it. Upon entering my top-floor room I was loving it even more - lovely room with shower and bath, and a huge balcony which surveyed the entire vista! I felt like a King! Here's a pic of my view from my balcony - eat your hearts out!:



Also a pic of a portion of the resort:



Settled into my salts-invigorated bath and proceeded to turn into a prune - man, this was the life! As time advanced and my skin retreated, my phone buzzed, so I extricated myself from this nirvana, had a shower (huh? - I've got no clue either, but I think it's because it was there!) and checked the message. An invitation to dine (this was a feed yourself night) from Harvey and Tina - how lovely! I was really touched - they are such nice people! Man I owed them bigtime - Harvey snagged the bill and payed for me! We were joined by a number of our group and had a wonderful time!

Post meal, of the typical excellent quality for both food and companionship of this tour and having consumed a few excellent beers, I drifted back to my room, parked myself on the balcony and soaked in the view with a cold beer in hand. Well actually, that was the plan but the beer didn't eventuate as I fell asleep on the chair! Obviously my body required some rest, so I piled into bed and it was lights out within seconds.

Tomorrow was our layover day, complete with morning 1 hour massage and afternoon sea-kayaking! Read about what I recall of it, including the onset of domesticity as I do my laundry, the "it-burns-like-the-sun" pre-massage steam cave sauna, the attack of the memory-sapping sea-lettuce consumed mid-kayak trip, the disappearing photos, and oblivion, all in the next installment.