July is the Month for Vacations by Victoria Chatham

Our topic this month is vacations and where do we go or would suggest going. When I lived in England I was about a two-hour drive away from the coast. When I moved to land-locked Alberta, I missed the ocean like crazy. My go-to vacation spot back then was Spain, mostly the Costa Brava and not the more usual Costa del Sol or Costa del Mar. I spent the first week relaxing and sunning myself on the beach and the second week finding places to visit.

Times change. After coming to Canada, vacations were trips home to the UK to visit my family although I usually find somewhere else to go or revisit favorite spots. Walking along the canal side in my hometown of Stroud, Gloucestershire, is always a delight. In Canada, I began camping – the first time since I was a Girl Guide – but camping with a difference. No more suspect army surplus bell tents, but more compact and well-designed campers and trailers.

I’ll be camping again this summer with my friend in her fifth-wheel, this time a tour of parts of British Columbia that I’ve never seen before. I haven’t been on a beach since 2002 when I visited Victoria, Vancouver Island. There’s something about sun, sea, and surf that completely mesmerizes me. Next January we are heading to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico for a month. I’ve never been to Mexico before and and am really looking forward to enjoying sitting on a beach and gazing at the Pacific Ocean. However, I doubt that I will sit gazing for long as my friend has a few ideas of where to go and what to do. Zip line, anyone?

I'm not sure that I'd suggest a vacation destination to anyone. What I look for and enjoy is going to be very different from what someone else may want to experience. But wherever you go and whatever you do, have fun. Going anywhere can make a difference in your life because, according to the Roman philosopher, Seneca, 'travel and change of place impart new vigour to the mind'.  

Victoria Chatham

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The Beauty of Vancouver Island by Katherine Pym

Pacific Inlet on  Vancouver Island, BC, Canada

I've visited the BC area of Canada a few times. As an American who lives in the Seattle area, you'd think we'd pile in the car and visit several times a year but life got too often in the way.

We have friends who live in Port Alice, located at the bottom of a deep inlet on Vancouver Island. The map shows it only a finger width away, but in actuality it took two solid days to get there.

Vancouver Island ripped from mainland

If you look at Vancouver Island on the map, it's slightly askew, ranging from Southeast to Northwest with an archipelago of San Juan Islands scattered between it and the mainland. The border of Canada and the US slices through the San Juans. Vancouver Island is near the Cascadia Subduction zone and must have ripped off the mainland during a massive, plate tectonic earthquake (my theory anyway).

We had to take a ferry and even though it's quite a thrill to travel that way, it is time consuming, what with the lines and the wait. We landed at Sidney BC (a wonderful place with so many bookstores-heaven!), went through customs and kicked the petal to the metal.

We headed north, and more north and even more north than that. As you get into the wilderness, there are fewer roads. You can't cross from one side of the island to the next due to a mountain range that seems to march up the center of the island. Lakes abound. Pacific inlets cut deeply through the landscape. Wildlife peeks at you from the fence strung along the road.

Sea Otter

Once we reached Port Hardy, which is as about as far as you can go in a car, we headed back south again. Black bears crossed in front of us. Eagles perched on the high branches of trees.

We meandered on a narrow road with twists and turns, crossing the island toward the Pacific Ocean. Fur trees towered overhead. Every once and awhile, lakes would shimmer beyond the pine fronds and thick trunks. At nightfall we reached Port Alice, a tiny town nestled between the inlet and the mountainous foothills.

Bald Eagle

It was almost dark when we pulled into the drive.  Our friends and dogs bustled out of the house and helped us with our bags. 'We'll go fishing, tomorrow,' Nick said. 'You'll love it,' Sue added.

The next day dawned calm and breathless, the inlet glassy. You could hear sounds travel from miles away. It was beautiful, breathtaking. We clamored onto the boat and motored the length of the inlet to open sea.


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Coming July 2017

The story of Sir David & Lady Kirke of Ferryland, Newfoundland, a saga of sorts that begins with David and his brothers conquering Québec, and ending with Sara as North America's foremost female entrepreneur.

The Wilds of Canada, from British Columbia to Nova Scotia via New Brunswick.

When I was eight years old my family drove north from California and entered the wilds of Canada. British Columbia came first, and I was amazed at the lush beauty of the country. So much greenery, bright blue lakes, and tall, elegant pines. The wooden totem poles with their carved, scary faces, and the fact I had to wear a sweater in August. 

We took a huge ferry over to Vancouver Island and visited a botanical garden. A mock-up of Ann Hathaway’s thatched-roof cottage was there. My mother said she was Shakespeare’s wife. I don’t remember if I knew who he was at the time, but I vowed to see the original cottage in England when I grew up—and I have.

We dallied so long on the island, that we missed the ferry and had to stay the night. My father wasn’t happy because the inn was expensive, but my brother and I thought it a great adventure. The hotel we stayed in resembled an old English castle, with dark paneled walls and suits of armor lining the front hall.

Back on shore we traveled through Alberta and Saskatchewan, visited Banff and the magnificent Banff hotel. Even at the age of eight, that place impressed me. But British Columbia will forever have a place in my heart.

My next foray into Canada was many years later when I attended a writers’ workshop in Liverpool, Nova Scotia. We visited a nearby lighthouse where we climbed up into the wooden dome and watched a recording of a man who’d grown up in the lighthouse.

My husband and I drove around the island and looked at other lighthouses, one a bright red, watching out on a windy, pristine shore. We saw an ancient rampart in Halifax.

We visited pretty wooden villages, ate lunch at Indian Falls in Lunenburg and had the best haddock ever. To get to Nova Scotia, we drove the entire length of New Brunswick. The main road cuts a swath through towering pines, a wilderness I wish we’d had more time to explore, but we were late for the workshop.

This coming May I plan a trip to Saint John, New Brunswick where I’ll delve into its history in depth, watch the famous tides that can drop forty feet in the Bay of Fundy, and stand on the knoll of Fort Howe—unfortunately this fortress no longer exists—where some of my upcoming story on the settlement of New Brunswick takes place.

Coming in February 2018

 

 

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Diane Scott Lewis