Day 4 and 5: Broughton Archipelago Adventure

Friday, September 1, 2017

Sointula, Malcolm Island

I arrived in Sointula last night on the ferry from Port McNeill. I didn’t arrive until almost 20:00, and didn’t know where I was going to stay. Everything near the ferry terminal was already closed except for The Sointula Pie Co., which was just closing. The woman there suggested I drive down the road to Harmony Shores Campground. I have site #8, right on the beach.

Only one other site was taken last night. Being there by myself was so beautiful, drinking a cup of chamomile tea and looking out at the Queen Charlotte Strait before tucking into the hammock for the night.

Yesterday morning we paddled south from Spyhop Beach back toward the point we had paddled to the afternoon before. But before we reached it, we found ourselves in the midst of what Julian thought were 30-40 orcas and a pod of dolphins who were harassing or playing with them. We spent an hour or so among them, and followed them back north once they started traveling again. Eventually, they outpaced us. Amazing.

We lunched on a beach beside Blinkhorn Island and spent a lazy time there. Julian and the boys threw rocks. I napped on a long flat driftwood. Then we paddled peacefully back to Telegraph Cove, sorted our things, and said our good-byes.

I came to Sointula because the ferry to Alert Bay was full, and the woman at the ferry terminal said there was better camping here anyway. Harmony Shores has a small building with a microwave, toaster, coffee pot, kettle and kitchen sink, as well as two private bathrooms with showers. I was relieved to get cleaned up this morning. I even washed my pyjamas and all my underwear and hung them in the car to dry. 

While I was showering, it rained. I set up tarps when I returned to camp, another shower passing as I did. Then I walked 3 kilometres into town, picking up scraps of garbage and a five-dollar bill, and passing a deer that seemed more wary of me than of the two cars that passed by.

I had lunch at the Upper Crust Bakery — a large bowl of African peanut yam soup and two slices of buttered rye bread. Delicious. A small Chilean man runs the place. Then I toured the Sointula Museum, which was full of my childhood memories and grandparents’ memorabilia, along with the story of the Finnish communistic utopians who settled here in 1901, creating the Kalevan Kansa Colonization Company.

After meandering through the Sointula Co-op Store, and visiting the tourist information centre, I ordered a Joyful pizza at the Sointula Pie Co. (curried onion, peppers, mushrooms, pineapple, and cheese), and ate it at a picnic table outside the Sointula Tourist Information Centre. It tasted so good, I’m thinking of going back there tomorrow night. Yum!

A pair of ravens are nested above my campsite. I love the sound of their flight as they come and go. Last night I thought I heard an eagle here, too. Mergansers, terns, sandpipers and gulls frequent the beach and bay.

A neighbouring camper is fly fishing a stone’s throw in front of me, waist deep in the water, while his son floats in a yellow inflatable dinghy further down the beach. It’s nearing sunset, and the clouds are breaking.

Copyright © 2017 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.

Day 3: Broughton Archipelago Adventure

Thursday, August 31, 2017

Skyhop Beach, Vancouver Island

Morning

The night before last, I again heard humpbacks blowing all through the night. I imagined one was sleeping in the water off our beach, and got excited enough to get up and walk down to look. All was quiet, dark, cloudy — nothing to be seen, not even the stars.

I had a restless night, hot in my down sleeping bag, and was only just getting up when Julian called us for breakfast. Light rain had started a few hours earlier, but tapered off. I ate my granola, blueberries and banana on the beach.

While we were having a slow morning, a young man pulled up to the dock beside our camp in a 24-foot metal power boat designed for fishing, and then moved into a flat-bottom metal dinghy and came over to chat with Julian.

Justin, the grandson of the wealthy North Carolina man who owns the property, had a good-ole-boy accent, a light brown beard, dirty Carhartt pants and a worn t-shirt. He said he was going fishing, but planned to throw back everything unless it was hooked through the eyeball or otherwise injured. Julian said he was a hard worker who cat-wheeled his bobcat and cut sheet metal with a plasma cutter while wearing sandals and no eye protection — young, reckless, and having fun. His grandpa loved to fish, so bought this 90 acre property on an island in the wilderness of British Columbia.

We made two crossings that day, the first back to Hanson Island where we stopped at a beautiful camp for lunch. Big rocks had been pushed aside to make a gravel ramp to haul up kayaks. A driftwood seating area encircled a fire pit atop a rocky outcrop. Further in, forest concealed the camp kitchen and dining area. Tents were dispersed along a path overlooking the ocean that led to another beach. Beside the dining area was a driftwood bench swing and a single-rope swing with a driftwood seat tied on.

The morning kayak crossings were quiet. Over lunch, light rain fell, but it soon ended. Our second crossing of the day was back to Vancouver Island and our camp at Spyhop Beach.

Josh hadn’t slept well and was feeling very uncomfortable, so we left him at camp. The rest of us paddled south along the coastline. Soon we saw a male and female orca and paddled towards them. They meandered, and we paddled at a safe distance alongside them for a long time. They were out from shore, and rose right beside a pair of kayakers who had been watching them approach.

I was up early this morning. The tide is out, and I’m sitting on the rocks watching the sun rising through the clouds, the water calm and still, and young orca passing by very near the shore. What a beautiful, beautiful place to be.

Day 2: Broughton Archipelago Adventure

Tuesday, August 29, 2017

Roger’s Beach, Swanson Island

Early afternoon

We’ve had a sunny morning. When we left Hanson Island, the weather was breezy and cool, but on this side of the water it’s hot and calm. Julian is setting up the outdoor shower(!), as we have running water from the landowner’s well. The rest of us are basking in the sun, the boys exploring the rocks for tiny crabs

All last night, we could hear humpbacks blowing and breaching. Amazing. I wondered whether it was a sea lion on our beach, and about getting up and going down to look, but thought I would have either seen nothing in the dark, or that if a sea lion were there I would have disturbed it, and it might even have been territorial. So I lay in my sleeping bag listening, and  learned from Julian this morning about my mistaken sound identification.

What a guilty pleasure it is to paddle to shore and find a base camp hidden in the trees, tents and sleeping pads set up and waiting, and to have Julian prepare and clean up after all our meals. At sunset last night, he walked out onto the beach carrying a tray of brownies, each one on its own leaf, with a candle glowing in the middle, and brought them around to us. I teased him this morning that it was right out of a women’s fantasy novel — a handsome young Maltese man serving chocolate on the beach to three 40 to 50ish year-old women.

We’ve spent the whole morning watching humpbacks and orcas blowing and breaching around us. One orca came up about 10 metres to my left as we were rafted together. I shrieked. Julian swore loudly, and then said he had goosebumps. Another breached, looking as if it were coming straight towards us, then rose again to our right. Since I’ve been writing on the beach, at least half a dozen have breached out in the water.

We’re already at our base camp for the night, and have unloaded our kayaks. Our boats will be lighter for our afternoon paddle. The boys are collecting specimens — crabs, and eel — in a tidal pool aquarium in the rocks. I’ve finally warmed up enough to strip off my long underwear. More whales are blowing, and a tail fin breached the water.

Early evening

All of us except Helen, who had heat exhaustion, went for a long paddle around some of the smaller islands this afternoon. I paddled Julian’s plastic Current Designs kayak, heavy with all the emergency gear. Julian and Josh shared a double. 

Josh has been the least enthusiastic kayaker,  complaining of being uncomfortable in the boat and taking frequent breaks when he was with his mom. I was surprised he volunteered to come with us this afternoon, and at how much he enjoyed it. He even kept paddling when Julian was taking a water break. I was really glad to see him having a better experience.

I was worn out by the time we returned. I had a (cold) shower — refreshing — and got into my warm evening clothes. We’re all sitting on the beach while Julian makes supper. I’m drinking mint tea, a mild headache, listening to the humpbacks in the distance.

Day 1: Broughton Archipelago Adventure

Monday, August 28, 2017

Squarenotch Cove, Hanson Island

Sunset

I arrived at Telegraph Cove campsite yesterday evening. Helen and Josh came out to meet me there after supper, and we walked to the beach, looking out at the water and islands where we would spend our next few days.

Today we saw:
- seals
- sea lions lying in the water, waving their fins
- eagles
- a pod of doll porpoises that swam around us
- humpback whales, their dorsal and tail fins breaching the water

We left Telegraph Cove this morning. Fog blanketed the water most of the day, even though we could often see blue sky. Through it, we could hear other sea lions and humpbacks in the distance. The sound of the humpbacks blowing is low and distinctive.

There are six of us on this trip. Julian, newly graduated from the Thompson Rivers University Adventure Studies program and in his mid-twenties, is our guide. Helen and I are here with her 14-year old son, Josh. Megan Klammer, a nurse who’s just moved to Victoria from Nelson, has also brought her 14-year old son, Lachlan.

It’s dusk now. There’s an orange band of sky behind the blue mountains across the water. Two humpbacks are crossing. I can hear them breach and blow, then see the two spouts of water rise in unison, the painted sunset colours behind them; and then again, as they continue their voyage, passing a point of land, disappearing behind it.

Copyright © 2017 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.

California Desert, January 2012

Dry, dead, desolate,
barren, brown mountains,
So unlike those lushly forested
blue beauties of my
home.

Rock after rock after rock.

A rubble pile,
the remnants of some
horrible explosion.
It must have been abandoned
after the tragedy,
the survivors heart broken,
too sick in their souls
to do the work of reclaiming it
one
more
time.

The ones too injured to
follow
grew spikes and needles,
fangs,
learned to spit poison,
suck just enough life from each to the other,
back and forth,
to get through
another
day.

At rare moments I see one
scurry like a shadow
on the side of the trail,
see the little holes they've
dug to shelter them
selves like graves
for the living.

The only softness in these hills,
repeated over and over again,
are mounds of sage brush,
velvety grey roses,
sprung from desert carcasses.
Such a bitter healer
that keeps us in this place.

Copyright © 2012 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.

Comfort Suite #307, San Francisco, January 31, 2012

"I know my mother loved me,"
you deadpan,
"because she beat me."

People tell me now
that I am
strong,
but I wasn't strong
enough to hold you.

"God never gives you more
than you can handle,"
they say. I smile
crookedly,
nod politely,
knowing they are wrong.

God gives us exactly
more than can be handled
once in each of our lives, and that
is what ends it.

But if God loves us
the way
your mother
loved
you, She breaks us,
and we get more
twice.

Copyright © 2012 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.

Year Three

Early in February, my mom told me her doctors had found a mass in one of her lungs. A biopsy confirmed it was cancer. Neither she, my dad or step dad are smokers, so you can imagine what a shock this was for everyone, my mom especially.

After many tests, she had surgery on May 20th and they removed most of her right lung. Six days later, she was home from the hospital, the stitches were out, and the treatment, other than some exercises to rebuild her lung capacity, seems to be over. She’s taking afternoon naps, not lifting heavy things, has gotten a housekeeper, and is otherwise back to her normal activities. The happiness and relief I feel about this makes every day seem sunnier and brighter.

Life has been a whirlwind since I got back to Vancouver on March 5. I quickly became submerged in finding and starting a new job (I’ve been with WorkSafeBC over two months now), re-engaging with the local organizational development community, and helping Cliff with home renovations.

When I first arrived, Cliff apologetically told me that he and his son Christopher were just about to refinish the living, dining, and hall ceiling, a section of which looked like it had been damaged for many years. I joked that he was trying to make me feel at home, as my siblings and I grew up in an enormous home renovation project. (When he heard about Cliff’s reno’s, my brother made exactly the same joke.) I even offered to help with the project, since I wasn’t working yet.

Of course, one thing led to another. While tackling the ceiling, Cliff realized the attic was poorly insulated, so we spent a couple days rectifying that. Then there was the wall of wood paneling in the living room — might was well replace that with drywall, and that meant repainting everything. And since we already had the furniture out of the way, Cliff was convinced to refinish the hardwood floors, too, although that meant clearing all the bedrooms, which also needed to be painted … and wouldn’t some crown moulding make it all look great?

What we thought was going to be a two-week project turned into three months. We were extremely fortunately to have Christopher and eventually Rick working on the project — both very skillful craftsmen. There were times when we were disheartened, frustrated, exhausted, even angry and scared; and also times when we were focused, playful, elated, and celebratory.

Happily, even through the nuttiness of living in a home in disruption and returning from work every evening and weekend for weeks to sand, prime, and paint — and on top of that, finding and learning a new job, adjusting to living in the same house as someone who I’d previously seen every couple of weeks or months, who was used to having his own space and time and privacy, and hosting many out-of-town guests — even through all of that disorder and change and uncertainty, Cliff and I grew closer and decided to extend our living arrangement indefinitely.

[Okay, okay, I have to eat some crow here. I know some of you — those to whom I protested many times that this was absolutely positively just a fling, just temporary, nothing serious, and finally, “I’m only going to stay there for a few weeks” — are thinking, “I told you so!” I humbly and happily acknowledge that you were much better predictors of how this was going to go than I have been.]

A couple weekends ago, two dear friends of mine from Ottawa, Laura and Annika, both happened to be in Vancouver, and I got to have short, delicious visits with them both. There was a party in Seattle that Saturday for the next class of LIOS graduates, so I was leaving right after lunch with Annika to celebrate their achievement and spend the night there. Saturday morning, the movers called to say that the truck with all my personal belongings had arrived from Ottawa. Could they deliver it all at 1:00? I changed plans with Annika so that she and I would be at the house when my stuff arrived. She and her friend Terri got there to find me in tears, being comforted by Cliff, upset over a transaction with the movers.

Annika and Terri’s company got me into a much better frame of mind, Cliff left to watch hockey, and I drove south to the Doubletree Inn, Tukwila, Washington. How wonderfully sweet to be with all the soon-to-be-graduates dressed to the nines and warmly welcoming me into their fold. I remembered them all from the first residential conference they attended, as uncertain as I had been on my first day about what to expect from this program, and here they were at the end of it, giddily gorged with the richness of their experiences.

Many alumni talk about the continued impact of the LIOS program the year after graduation. As I celebrated the many and impressive achievements of this amazing group of students, I realized everything in my life that was pulled apart two years ago had come back together, and that I was also celebrating the end of my “Year 3”.

After a nomadic sixteen months, I am resettled in the city where I started, emerging into a new life, work, and relationship. Mom is well again, I am connected with so many incredibly beautiful people, and every day I see more and more what an amazing person Cliff is. Walking home after work, I look around and realize that these are MY neighbours, this is where I LIVE, and that the dreams I had setting out two years ago have all come true.

Copyright © 2011 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.