Well, it would be way cooler if I’d actually made any of these delicacies. I could claim I did, but that would, not even strictly speaking, be untrue. Along with a small basketful of lovely stones collected from the beaches of Malcolm Island, the preserves are a souvenir of a recent visit to Morag (maker of said preserves) and Darryl, old friends from Greenpeace toxic days, now living in Sointula.
And, yes, it is every bit as pretty as Darryl’s poster suggests (although the mountain in the background is not on the island, but one of the coastal mountains seen on a very clear day).
Was quite looking forward to the long drive from A (Gabriola) to B (Sointula).
Glove compartment full of old favourite CDs to play at high volume and sing along to on my way up the island highway. (Singing alone in the car being the only time I can let rip musically without people clapping their hands over their ears and begging for mercy). Unfortunately, as I discovered soon after I got onto the highway at Nanaimo, the CD player in the car has died. Bugger. Oh, well, will just have to listen to the radio. Hmm. No signal of any description (let alone CBC, which I want) seems to be available anywhere on the radio soon after I clear Campbell River. And now the “highway” is two lanes, it’s pouring with rain and I keep getting stuck behind logging trucks for miles until I have a shot at overtaking them. Not quite as enjoyable as I’d anticipated.
Still, despite rain and logging trucks, I make such good time I am able to catch the 4:05 ferry from Port McNeil, rather than the 6:30 I’d been aiming to catch. (Turns out Morag’s estimate that it was a five hour drive from Nanaimo to Port McNeil had been based on people who, unlike her – and me – actually stick to the speed limit.) So, of course, when I arrive two and a half hours early, they are not home. Never mind, I get to enjoy the view from their deck, which, if I’d had any trouble figuring it out before, makes it easy to understand why they traded in a leaky condo in Vancouver for a home in this outpost.
Not bad, eh?
They arrive back soon afterwards from a trip to Sointula’s only food shop (the oldest co-operative in BC, apparently) with news that earlier that afternoon a pod of whales had spent an hour rubbing on the beach by Bere Point. Sadly for Darryl and Morag, this news came second hand from someone at the Co-op.
Hardly surprising that we spend chunks of the next two afternoons hanging out on said beach to see this.
Wish I could say we did, but all we got were some dolphins in the distance and one seal (who I swear was a scout for the whales, sent to warn them if there were any witnesses). Morag and I did, however, get hours of enjoyment out of throwing stones at a log. What a lot of fun you can have doing absolutely nothing.
PS Despite it turning out that the Sointula pub, the Rub (for whale rub, not rub a dub dub) was holding a karaoke on the Saturday night and despite my inability to sing along with old favourites in the car, I was not tempted to get up and sing.
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