Paddling "little boats" with "grown-up" ships...

Two of our newest BC Ferries - two ships passing in the (day) light.

We have a friend who affectionately (I think) refers to our sea kayaks as "little boats". Although I'm sure she is teasing us, I always feign a sensitivity. After all, our "little" craft are ocean-going vessels, capable of all-weather (within reason) multi-week expeditions. Their design reflects 4000 years of history - with very little substantial change over that significant period of time. Wood or whalebone frame, covered in stitched animal skin, may have been replaced by kevlar and the hull design tweaked with the aid of CAD software - but essentially, they are the same boat.

Commercial vessels, near Nanaimo Harbour.

Paddling on the ocean means taking into consideration tides, currents, winds, fetch, gigantic marine mammals, yachts, cruise ships, ocean tugs towing log booms, and freighters longer than football fields. There is raw, untamed nature...and there are the "grown up" ships, that dwarf us and find us impossible to "see", on even their most sophisticated radar systems.

Yours truly - "one man and the sea" (Rather "Hemingway-esque?")

"Little boats", dear friend? Yes, assuredly, but they are sturdy and brave little boats. And that is not to mention the intrepid paddlers who guide their course with fined-tuned cadence, and due care and caution.

I'm sure other sea kayakers might give a nod to these sentiments. :)

Duncan.


PS Lest anyone feel the need to caution us about mixing "little boats" with "grown-up" ships, trust me, we are very cautious and respectful of large ocean-going vessels - and paddle well out of their way. Honest.

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes...and the Summer Solstice.

This morning, final scramble to the top.

My favourite rock musical is "RENT", by the late Jonathon Larson and based on Puccini's La Boheme. It's edgy, raw, and is the story of a group of struggling young artists and musicians in New York's Lower East Side. It's set against a backdrop of HIV/AIDS. The production is powerful and very moving, and, again, edgy. One of the most memorable songs, "Seasons of love" asks the question, "How do you measure a year in the life?"

How do you measure, measure a year?

In daylights? In sunsets?

In midnights? In cups of coffee?

In inches? In miles?

In laughter? In strife?

In five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes,

how do you measure a year in the life?

Today, June 21st, is the Summer Solstice. Scheduled to be an extremely full day, there would be no spare moments. But there was something three of us had to do, first thing. We knew that on this special day, we had to climb to a high place. It would be the beginning of a new "season", in many ways. And so the alarm was set for 0500 hrs - just moments before the dawn, following the shortest night of the year.

The closest "high" place to us is the landmark "cross" on Mount Tzouhalem, an elevated point over the fertile Cowichan Valley, very near where we live. The elevation gain is almost 1000 feet. The trail is familiar, having hiked / run that same route to the top well over 500 times since moving to Vancouver Island almost ten years ago. Each and every time, looking down over the Valley, the Gulf Islands and the Salish Sea, and across the water to the snow-capped Olympic Mountains in Washington, we have felt the exhilaration of fresh perspectives and renewed energy.

High over the Cowichan Valley, early on the Summer Solstice.

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes ago, Joan and I hiked over the Scottish heather moorland on rugged and uneven terrain to the Airlie Monument where the views of Glen Prosen and Glen Clova are simply wonderful. It seemed the most appropriate thing to do upon receiving the unexpected news of my mother's passing, from a close friend back in Canada. We shared stories and memories and felt deeply thankful. It was a healing "journey" and mum would have approved...and she would have smiled.

A chapter had turned on a "season of love", never to be forgotten and to be cherished forever. I look at the Summer Solstice now as the beginning of a new season in life. Summer is here, and the seasons of fall, winter, and spring will follow - as they always have. There may be, for us all, transitions and challenges, heartaches and joys, triumphs and days when things don't work out the way we would like them to - for all of these things are the very "gist" of life. But through everything, we can grow and achieve a depth of understanding in marvellous and meaningful ways.

How do we measure a year? In countless ways, and all very personal. And what about tomorrow? A Sanskrit proverb continues to have profound meaning for me. May it also touch you.

"Yesterday is but a dream, tomorrow but a vision.

But today well lived 

makes every yesterday a dream of happiness, 

and every tomorrow a dream of hope.

Look well, therefore, to this day. Such is the salutation to the dawn."

May each day, well lived, always be the measure of our lives.

And may your Summer Solstice be a "season of love".

Duncan.