The curious draw of distant horizons...

Joan, and the distant horizon...obscure but inviting.

Paddling silently along the shores of the southern Gulf Islands is always a treat - the unique geological formations, the flora and fauna, the marine life, the reflected waves, and the occasional bits of "treasure" wedged in amongst and behind the rocks provide a tantalizing "feast", both for the senses and the imagination. Having said that, we love also to look out to the distant horizon. There is the sense that you have left land behind and have embarked upon, what most certainly is anticipated to be, an epic adventure. Ahhh, the stuff of which dreams are made.

The distant horizon promises an ocean-based version of John Gillespie Magee's slipping "the surly bonds of earth". Canadian astronaut, and recent Commander of the International Space Station, Chris Hadfield, knows all about that! The sea kayak's forward momentum shares many of the "flight" dynamics of an aircraft - the pitch, the yaw, and the roll - the angles of rotation in three dimensions that make for a thrilling, and sometimes, challenging "ride".

The ocean horizon beckons with a sense of "invitation" into the unknown - to places and spaces that promise to satiate the thirst for adventure that resides within. All of this, of course, is balanced by a small amount of trepidation, after all, the unknown is the unknown.

Perhaps that is why those who are devoted to these narrow craft are often dreamers. Those who paddle on the vast and mysterious ocean, albeit close to shore, yearn to make new discoveries - about themselves, about one another, and about the marvellous world we inhabit. They rather like the idea of an encounter with the unexpected and are curious to learn how they will respond to change and transition. They see a small "dash" of healthy anxiety as something akin to a pinch of salt - just the right ingredient to sharpen the experience at hand.

Perhaps most satisfying, however, the distant horizon implies a sense of self-sufficiency - you've prepared and provisioned for this journey and you must now trust in your abilities, experience, and careful judgement, having left the comfort and secure embrace of the shoreline behind. Here now begins a journey of self-discovery - and as humbling an experience as it can sometimes be, it offers meaning, value, and texture to each moment of our being.

The distant horizon can, therefore, be full to brimming with the varied "topography" of a promised epic adventure! Perhaps that is what draws most of all. As is the case with so much in life, our view is determined by our perspective - and our appetite for discovery and new experiences.

May such distant horizons beckon and intrigue us all.

As always, thank you for spending a few moments here.

Duncan.

Transitions in "passions": Good thing / bad thing? Or continuing to explore and experience?

Outside the cabin: Ready to go, first thing tomorrow morning!

A friend and blog reader asked in an email recently, "Are you losing your passion for sea kayaking?" I responded. "No. Why do you ask?" "Fewer posts on the subject this year.", he replied. After some thought, I discerned that he was, indeed, correct. There have been fewer posts and, according to my daily journal, we've launched fewer times in 2013 than in past years.

So, are we less passionate about being on the water? No, I don't think so. As I write this, the boats are on the roof of the High Mobility Kayak Transport Vehicle, here at the cabin on Gabriola, and ready to launch first thing tomorrow morning. And really looking forward to that.

And it was, indeed, a nice paddle around the "Flat Tops".
(Photo added the next day)

In these "re-configured" and less-than-full-time days, we have rediscovered some old passions and found some new ones. Cycling is one. The bikes, bought in 2006, have spent most of the time in the garage...waiting. We were too busy. This past year, however, we try to get out three or four early mornings a week to ride the route from "base camp" to Genoa Bay - lots of nice hills that get the heart pumping on the way up and a quick ride on the way down.

Dreaming...

We both seem to get a ridiculous thrill these days, pouring over UK Ordnance Survey (topographical) maps, imagining the hills and glens, the paths and trails, and the lonely cairns that await exploration in Scotland and northern England in the very near future. Always wanted to hike and properly navigate with a map and compass. Again, always too busy in the past to get around to it.

The nasty achilles injury that has plagued for almost two years has now fully recovered - thanks to the treadmill, the iPod, and some (rare) common sense. (Been in this body for over 63 years and still learning that common sense trumps enthusiasm sometimes!) The right knee, that for six months had taken a lot of the fun out of trail running, is also significantly better. I'm positive that cycling has provided the exact kind of cross-training that was required. "Motion is lotion", the stiffness has gone and the full range of movement has returned. So we are running again, sensibly.

Lost some passion for kayaking? No. We're just finding that it has to take its place amongst some other passions. It's all part of the healthy and ongoing transitions that I truly believe our lives need to undergo to ensure we continue to explore and experience and discover new sources of meaning.

If this blog had suddenly morphed from a focus on paddling and self-propelled movement into "25 Ways to Improve Your Poker Game", my friend would have had reason for serious concern. So would Joan!

Everything is fine. There is balance. As the old philosopher said, "to everything there is a season". And most seasons can accommodate a wonderful variety of invigorating and health-filled activities that ensure we all continue to explore and experience - and grow. And variety is, indeed, a very spicy component to life!

At least, that's how I see it.

Short cut through Silva Bay marina.

A perfect paddling day on Canada's "left" coast.

We always appreciate you coming by.

Duncan.

An "oops" at Halifax International Airport...and a taste of Nova Scotia.

The iconic lighthouse at Peggy's Cove

Returning to Vancouver Island from Halifax, we weren't about to take any chances - it was a very early flight and we'd been told that the hotel shuttle bus to the terminal could be full. The advice: get down to the lobby early. So us being us (got to have a "double backup" plan) we got there extra early - two shuttle buses early in fact. Still not fully awake at 0445 hours, we joined a group of about a dozen men waiting in the lobby. Dressed for work in the oil patch, we naturally presumed they were heading back to Alberta's Fort McMurray and that we would share the same flight as we were flying via Calgary to Victoria.

The shuttle bus, with all the familiar hotel markings, pulled in about ten minutes early. We boarded and took our seats with the rest of the guys. I noted that our fellow passengers were very quiet. There was none of the usual banter. All seemed pensive, alone with their own thoughts. About five minutes into the ride, it became clear that we weren't driving the same route to the terminal that we had driven the night before to return the rental car. Hmm, must be mistaken. Several minutes later, we turned into the terminal. But...it was the wrong terminal. The aircraft that awaited was not a WestJet Boeing 737, it was a Cougar Sikorsky S-92 helicopter - bound for an off-shore helipad. We had unknowingly joined a crew of oil workers, heading out for a two-week shift aboard a vessel or a drilling rig...over 100 nautical miles out into the Atlantic Ocean. Oops.

Despite our clear lack of situation awareness and "brain engagement", all would be well. :) The main terminal at Halifax Stanfield International Airport was just another two minutes away. The driver, clearly much more awake than us, had already identified that as our probable destination. He cheerfully, and with a broad smile (it's the Maritime way) delivered us to the door - with nary a comment. I guess we weren't the first "civvies" to board the early bus to the airport!

Those aboard the shuttle that morning work in a difficult, unforgiving, sometimes incredibly hostile environment. They are far out at sea, and apart from their families for extended periods of time. I can well imagine who they were thinking about during that quiet ride to the waiting helicopter.

Somewhere, out at sea, a tiny helipad...

It was a good reminder of the many whose work takes them far from home and out to sea, for extended periods of time, and of the families who anxiously await their return. The experience on the shuttle bus provided an important perspective.

Here's some pics of Nova Scotia, one of our Canadian maritime provinces. Hope you enjoy them.

Very low tide, Bay of Fundy 

Don't you think his vessel would make a GREAT pirate ship!

"Theodore Tugboat", in Halifax Harbour,
maybe not quite so "pirate". :)

Marine shuttle between Halifax and Dartmouth

Canadian frigate HMCS Halifax (FFH 330),
returning to port.

They bake some amazing oatcakes here!

Maritime Museum, a "re-configured" church at LaHave.

Lunenburg Academy.

Lunenburg under blue skies..
(The schooner, Bluenose II was in dry dock.

The tiny community of Peggy's Cove.

A taste of France, and the Acadian culture.

Ouch!

Fair warning.

Lobster traps flung high onto the rocks
by a North Atlantic storm.

"Farewell to Nova Scotia...

...the sea bound coast."
A favourite Canadian folk song!

Back home on Vancouver Island, we returned with a renewed appreciation for the beauty and diversity of this most extraordinary country, and especially, Atlantic Canada.

Now, it's time to launch the kayaks, in these equally marvellous Pacific waters.

As always, thanks for spending a few moments here.

Duncan.


"Farewell to Nova Scotia" - and Gordon Lightfoot's version. You can have a listen here - it's a wonderful Celtic Canadian sound!

Friendships...and a week of contrasting emotions in Nova Scotia.

Gentleness.

This past week has been one of contrasting emotions. The events in Boston have created so much heartbreak, so much fear and distress. Amidst the collective jubilation and joy of the marathon finish line,  an act of planned and unthinkable violence changed and ended lives, and curtailed the dreams of so many. We wonder, once again, how it is that human beings can conceive and carry out such terrible actions against others. We offer our heartfelt thoughts and prayers. Most important, however, is that we stand firm in believing that one day, we will all help to create a future that is fair and just for all, a world free of violence and hatred forever.

We must never give up. It'll take something called...tenacity.

A fine ship...and a very good word.

And it will take...strength.

Nothing that is worthwhile is impossible.

For these same past seven days, we have been in Nova Scotia visiting friends. Six thousand road kilometres from home (4500 air kms, as WestJet flies), we have been reminded that friendships can transcend time and distance. We have only lived in the same community with Ray and Carol for four years over the past twenty-eight years, and yet the friendship is as warm and as vibrant as it ever was.

We met in 1985, at Canadian Forces Base Cold Lake, Alberta, where both Ray and I were both posted. In those three short years, our families enjoyed many shared activities. We sat down to countless meals together, made music on our guitars, laughed, and shared our plans and our dreams. We stood cheering in the stands as Eddy the "Eagle" flew off the ski jump at the 1988 Calgary Olympic Games. We hiked the West Coast Trail through endless rain, watched our children chase each other along the vast sands of Vancouver Island's Long Beach, dug for clams on a remote beach, and watched the stars sparkle above us in the deep and dark night sky.

We shared an overlapping year together while serving on NATO postings in Germany in both Lahr and Baden. During that time, we skied in Austria, camped in Switzerland, tasted countless samples of (very fine) wine in France. With our families, we explored castles and fortresses, and experienced the magic of an ancient world, still so very much in evidence. On an extraordinarily historic weekend in June of 1990, we watched the Berlin Wall come down - literally.

Here, in Nova Scotia this past week, we have shared many of those memories and the events that have been part of our individual "stories" since that time, reflections on the present, and dreams of the future.

Friendships can, indeed, transcend time and distance, and for that, we are grateful.

To the Colonel and Carol, thank you for the reminder...and for all your warm and gracious hospitality this week, and in the days yet to come, on Nova Scotia's lovely South Shore.

And to all those who faithfully stop by to share these pages and reflections, thank you so much.

Duncan and Joan.

Perpetual sunshine, paddling with sharks and octopuses...and a brand new "mothership".

Launching at Genoa Bay

One of the things we love about living here on Canada's "Pacific Island" is the fact that the sun shines every day - yes, 365 days of the year. Does that mean that there is no precipitation at all? Well, no. After all, our fields, forests, and vineyards are so green, lush and fertile throughout the year. You see, when it rains here, it only rains at night - when we are fast asleep. And the only place that it snows is high up in the mountains, and just on the actual ski runs. Folks brag about the "Mediterranean" climate on Vancouver Island but, as you will understand, it's way better than even that. It's like, well, Camelot.

Our fruit trees bear fruit twelve months of the year. Just the other day, we were in the garden picking some fresh pineapples, bananas, and kiwi. The mangoes and papaya are marvellous - fresh or in smoothies, delicious! Even the grass is green all year and never needs cutting as it only grows to the optimal height. Weeds? No such thing. No annoying mosquitoes either.

Of course, the sea kayaking is simply amazing too. We were out on Monday, making sure that the month got off to a good start. Launching at Genoa Bay, our route took us around Cowichan Bay, into Sansum Narrows, over to the shores of Saltspring and back to the Bay. The waters around the Island are always swimming pool-warm, even in the so-called winter months. We just wear the Goretex dry suits because they look really cool. There actually is no need for them here with the tropical-like ocean temperatures.

Did you know that real live pirates cruise our waters? Yes, one of their ships can be seen in the image below. They were in having mid-morning tea and scones at the marina café.

Pirate ship!

Pirates here are very friendly. When they approach you, they usually come bearing gifts. Today for example, we were hailed by the crew of another pirate ship and they showered us with valuable vouchers for our favourite coffee shop. I think we probably have sufficient for soy lattes and oat bars for the next six months! One very handsome and dashing pirate rowed over and handed Joan a lovely bouquet of fresh spring flowers. Joan appeared, most pleased. (I must confess, I am rarely that thoughtful.)

Is the weather always like this on April 1?
Of course, this is Canada's "Pacific Island"! :)

Our turquoise, tropical waters.

Marine life is equally friendly and approachable here too. Massive sharks frequent the waters and will often surface, right beside our kayaks. Although they look very much like Great White Sharks, I'm pretty sure they are not as they seem very mellow and relaxed, like most folks on Canada's "Pacific Island". They are about the same length as our kayaks but our 47 pounds of fibreglass are not to be compared to their 5000 pounds of muscle and flesh! And such teeth!

They love to nibble on any snacks that we have with us. I've discovered that the sharks here particularly enjoy almond butter and jam on bread. Some readers will remember that was exactly the gourmet sandwich I prepared for Joan for her pre-birthday celebration - roasted beurre d'amandes naturel, and sweet confiture de framboises.

Likewise, some of the largest and most impressive octopuses in the world inhabit the waters we routinely paddle on, hence the naming of nearby Octopus Point.

Here's lookin' at ya!

If you dangle your arm in the water, they love to come up under the kayak, reach out with their giant tentacles and give your hand an affectionate squeeze. Sometimes, they will wrap their "arms" around our kayaks and give them a squeeze - all in fun of course. We're always glad we went for the Kevlar option! Really, they are quite adorable creatures considering that everywhere else in the world, they would create a great deal of anxiety by their presence!

And, of course, the big news this month is that we now have an addition to our fleet of three kayaks, and she's a beauty - all 168 feet of her! We paddled over to do an initial water line inspection. Looked pretty good!

And that's just the front half!

We've named her Donnchadh, my Gaelic name, and one my father would use on occasion when I was young.

It was my idea to acquire a vessel large enough to carry our kayaks and provide simple accommodations on multi-day paddling trips - kind of a "mother" ship. Admittedly, she needs a little tender loving care - and a lot of paint. Joan volunteered to repaint the hull but I'm thinking that was when she thought the new boat was 16.8 feet long. I was sure I had typed 168 feet in my text message to her when I was making the deal. Even our kayaks are over 18 feet! Anyway, it's going to take a lot of paint and she's a little anxious about painting from a boatswain's chair using a rope descent system (like on the high rise buildings in the city). I assured her it would be perfectly safe and the end result will be a rather smashing looking vessel!

In the meantime, being the beginning of April, we were out there to paddle - it's always important to set the bar high on the first day of the month. Just for fun, I challenged Joan to a race back to Genoa Bay.

I was out in front for awhile.

Hmm, the wind began to gust and 
I appeared to be taking on some water.

Before long, however, Joan raced past me...

Joan, flying through the building waves!

...energized, I'm sure, by happy thoughts of cruises we would be taking together aboard the Donnchadh. I must say, she is such a good sport about all the exterior painting that has to be done first.

In no time, we were back at the launch site...

... and loading up the kayaks on the HMKTV roof racks.

Kayaks safely back on the HMKTV
(High Mobility Kayak Transport Vehicle)

Yes, this is some island - perfect weather all year round, fertile soils, warm seas, friendly sea creatures, and now countless opportunities to cruise and paddle to distant and exotic destinations in our new mothership.

As always, thanks for reading.

Duncan.


The above post was written on Monday, the first day of April. The paddling trip was real but most everything else, well... :)

A rainbow's reminder...

A rainbow's transient and fragile reminder.

In the midst of a day of storm warnings, gales and stormy seas, a rainbow of extraordinary beauty formed over the Coast Mountains, across the Salish Sea. It seemed a gentle and tangible, albeit brief, reminder of how fragile and how short life can be. It lasted but for a few moments.

We all have people in our lives who live bravely in the midst of struggle and pain. For some it is illness, for others it may simply be life's circumstances. Some are innocent bystanders, others make decisions that may return to haunt and to hurt. In the midst of the pain we may too feel on their behalf, or even for losses we ourselves know, there are always unanswerable questions. We can let that frustrate us, or we can take a collective and deep breath - and maybe, just maybe, discover a treasure.

It may be a time and an opportunity to discern together what is really important in our lives. Clearly we must take better care of each other, attempting to feel and understand one another's pain, for in so doing, we are moved to compassion. Acts of compassion bring healing, or at the very least, they bring comfort - to both the one who receives, and to the one who gives. We need to seek out peace-filled ways to celebrate and embrace our marvellous diversity. We need also to demonstrate greater concern for the island planet that is our shared and only home. I'm not sure much else matters. Anwar Fazal wrote these moving words:

Remember, we are one.

We all drink from one water

We all breathe from one air

We rise from one ocean

And we live under one sky

Remember

We are one

The new born baby cries the same

The laughter of children is universal

Everyone's blood is red

And our hearts beat the same song

Remember

We are one

We are all brothers and sisters

Only one family, only one earth

Together we live

And together we die

Remember

We are one

Remember

We are one

Peace be on you

Brothers and Sisters

Peace be on you.

- Anwar Fazal

So, what then will be helpful? For me, I will try to be kinder, more compassionate, more patient, more willing to love, to forgive, to listen, and to understand others. I will look beyond my own tiny and sometimes frenetic world and focus more energy on the needs of those who struggle, and who may often be forgotten. I will try to be more thankful, for therein lies a source of immense strength. I will find ways to take better care of the earth. All of these things will help to take away some of the hurt in the world, and in the lives of others.

A mere drop in the ocean? Yes, perhaps. But as we have discovered, paddling our sea kayaks on these magnificent waters, it is each and every individual drop that makes up the vast length, breadth, and depth of the ocean.

So yes, I must believe that it will be worth the effort.

Duncan.

In shades of grey to Burgoyne Bay...on being an "attentive" spouse.

Kayak "sunshine".

We paddled over to Burgoyne Bay yesterday, in light rainfall and amidst the March, west coast, "shades of grey" - for a little "celebration". Some background information will help explain.

I will admit that I’m not the most attentive spouse when it comes to “special” days. Valentine’s Day comes and goes each year (it's in February, isn't it?) and there's rarely a card, or flowers, or chocolates. Having said that, I’ve never missed a birthday, but sometimes end up creating a last minute card - which, by the way, seems far more “creative” than an expensive store-bought one anyway! Joan never seems to mind that I often fail to think of these things. Of course after forty years, her expectations may, understandably, be minimal. I can honestly say that she maintains an excellent sense of humour regardless of whether or not these days are marked by special festivities.

"Paddy's Milestone" - high and dry.

This year, however, I decided it was time to exceed the usual expectations. With Joan's birthday coming up shortly, it seemed like a rather brilliant idea to design an “early” surprise - at a time when she’d least expect it. This would, I surmised, enhance my "attentiveness rating" substantially, perhaps even exponentially.

The skies were grey but the life on the sea floor was full of colour.

So, what to do? Well, although we rarely dine out, I know Joan enjoys a special meal every now and again. Some readers will remember that I scored major points a couple of years ago with a special dining out experience on a beach (that's only there during low tide) on nearby Saltspring Island. Yes, that was perfect, why not do something similar? I’ll make it an pre-birthday celebration she’ll remember for a long time to come. No longer will I be the guy who lets these events pass with nary a celebration!

Local eagle performing "vertical lift" manoeuvre from a dock.

The plan came together very quickly. I would, once again, take Joan to a nearby Southern Gulf Island where I knew there was another lovely spot - quiet, intimate, very natural, and by the water with a gorgeous view back across to Vancouver Island. We could actually drive there in the High Mobility Kayak Transport Vehicle…but that would mean taking a ferry which seemed like an unnecessary expense. No, we'll just travel there under our own “steam” - after all, "self-propelled" activities rule! Joan won't mind one bit, and it will be cost-efficient.

Now, what to wear? Well, there was no doubt in my mind. This was going to be a special day so I was going to wear my very best suit.

Actually, it’s the only suit I have but it’s very practical and very comfortable. (I do have a nice navy blue blazer but it would feel rather formal in the kayak and could also be ruined in the event of a capsize.)

Choosing "wardrobe" for the occasion.

Yes, so I decided to wear the mango suit. And Joan always looks very stunning in red so I suggested she wear her red outfit - also very practical indeed, given our mode of transportation.

Now, what to have on the menu? Well, it would need to be very special, indeed. This would be, after all, a celebration that I hoped would be more than memorable. The meal, however, would have to be within my limited abilities. Maybe, I can get Joan to assist without her actually knowing? Yes, that should be possible as she is a very agreeable person. No, I'll do it myself. We'll give it a European theme: French bread from a local bakery, spread with roasted beurre d'amandes naturel, and sweet confiture de framboises. Mmmm.

Earlier that day...a gourmet lunch being prepared.

Oh sure, some folks will say that lunch amounted pretty much to a peanut butter and jam sandwich, well it wasn't. It was almond butter. Rather classy, I thought.

Strangely appropriate flotsam - with the correct month and year.

A cloud "snuggles" into a little bay on Saltspring.

The day proceeded as follows. Shortly after breakfast, without telling her what we were doing, I took Joan down to the “Gear Room” and suggested she choose her red “suit” and the usual accessories - PFD, spray cover, paddle, etc. Hoping not to give too much away, I shared with her that we were going somewhere “special”. (I had already prepared and packed our gourmet lunch in a dry bag and hidden it in my kayak.) The plan was going well.

We loaded the kayaks on the racks and headed down to the launch spot, just five minutes from home. Wanting to keep our planned destination a surprise, I suggested we paddle over to Saltspring Island, make a “left” and just do the 2-3 hour loop. After crossing the Narrows, however, I made a casual “right” turn - towards Burgoyne Bay. We landed on the beach about an hour later and my surprise began to unfold - just as planned.

On the beach (and in the mud) at Burgoyne Bay.

As an appetizer, we enjoyed some veggies and homemade hummus (that I had casually asked Joan to prepare the day before). Soon, the time came to bring out the gourmet sandwiches. The paddle, the fresh cool ocean air, and the pure exhilaration of being outside had given us both an appetite. They were simply delicious. I had, of course, not forgotten a beverage and, much to Joan’s delight poured two steaming cups of Ovaltine from the thermos tucked away in the dry bag. Of course, a glass of red wine would have been much nicer, but we still had to paddle home.

Back at Maple Bay, attentive spouse or what?

All in all, a great day on the water and a surprisingly impressive pre-birthday celebration...organized by someone who is clearly learning to be more attentive to such things. :)

This one could be very difficult to top!

Duncan.