Jupiter’s crew is conversant with the sea, her channels, bays, capes and coves, but bewildered by highways and byways ashore and unmarked on navigational charts. We recognise that roads exist on coastal lands, but know not where or wherefore.
Arriving at a port we normally tie up alongside a town float, and roam inland by foot, perhaps aboard an offered ride or loaned vehicle, sometimes by taxi if one exists. Outports often have no roads at all, only boardwalks or trails.
Having rounded Cape Scott at the northern tip of the island we arrive at Port Hardy, where the north-island town marks the very end of a very long road up Vancouver Island. We want to explore.
After much discussion with a regional car hire agent, we taxi to the “in town” Budget office which is “out near the airport,” but “not at the airport” because the airport office is closed “except during other times,” and rent a car.
Oh, what freedom it is to drive ourselves on roads that run to useful and interesting places, if and when we wish to go there.
We take every possible route through town to Stryker Marine Electronics—open seven days—the tidy hardware and vast Save-on-Foods, the BC Liquor store—no longer selling US wines, only US liquors– trendy Café Guido, Sushi Harbour, Tandoori Junction, nax’id’ Pub and the Silver Fox Barber Shoppe where military haircuts are a speciality.
We drive our car across the island to the Pacific-facing port of Coal Harbour. The highway rolling up and down waves of geology, runs through timber forests recently or soon to be harvested. Here a former WW II Royal Canadian Air Force Base hangar remains to host the historic hoard of a hoarder who shares his trove with visitors.
The road to Coal Harbour ends at a former RCAF hangar.
The push and pull of forces on boats and on cars is different. We spend days that turn into weeks awaiting weather and sea to allow for outside passages up the exposed, western coast of Vancouver Island, picking pockets for shelter along the way. In a car we roll from coast to coast in under an hour, at any time, with no thought for wither, whether, or weather.
The principal difference between an adventurer and a suicide is that the adventurer leaves himself a margin of escape (the narrower the margin, the greater the adventure), a margin whose width and length may be determined by unknown factors but whose navigation is determined by the measure of the adventurer’s nerves and wits. It is exhilarating to live by one’s nerves or toward the summit of one’s wits.
Tom Robbins ~ Another Roadside Attraction
Thanks for the update on your travels! You have managed to explore more of the BC coast than many of us who’ve spent a lifetime here – good on ya!
We are catching up (vicariously) through you adventures!
Calm Seas,
Ross and Evie
We know very little of what goes on beyond the shore! Someday perhaps we will visit your mountains and interior.
Another treasure written and received, we found the finds of your exploration entertaining, and what wits you didn’t expend in narrowly escaping the risks of your adventure were wisely paid out in eloquent blogging and impressive photo illustration. Thank you, again, dear friends!
Kathy noted that a hanger to hold the whole hoard of the hoarder would need to be a stiff one, indeed, perhaps twisted of wire the caliber of a gaffing hook, and sized for the clothes of the whale, whose bones hang out there. But seeing no such closet appliance in the RCAF hangar, she decided it was a case of mistaken homophonia.
Homophone is a no go zone and we emit a low groan.
Thanks for the correction to this section which, upon reflection, exhibits imperfection!
Now the post is rectified with meaning identified, verified and clarified
No hangers where in evidence, only hangars used for air defence and now with hoards in residence.
Superb!
From Fiddle heads to tidal pools! We are in awe of your travels and explorations of remote areas by boat, foot and car! You are the most adventurous couple we know! Thank for taking us along. We look forward to each and every post. Safe Travels. Heather