Destination: Sound!

It always seems to take me a while to write blog posts about my favourite trips, probably because I'm in denial about them being over. So the fact that it's taken me almost a month to start writing this post is a good indication that it was an amazing adventure in my new favourite kayaking destination!

The start of the trip was an almost exact replica of our last one - drive, ferry, drive, stay at mother-in-law's, drive, ferry, drive, buy food and other supplies*, drive - but instead of continuing up the road to Lund, we turned right and headed for the kayak rental company's other location, in Okeover Inlet. As before, we'd booked a beast of a double kayak with a central hatch for all our gear, but got loaded up and in the water in record time. In fact we beat the couple next to us, who'd started loading a good half an hour before we did!

Come on you blues!

There was much friendly banter between us as we raced to launch... and again as we crossed their path on a brief trip back to the beach to retrieve Mr E Man's hat... and yet again as we passed them on our way back up the inlet, heading for Desolation Sound proper.

 Approximate routes

This part of the trip was pleasant enough, with nice cabins dotted about on the wooded slopes of the low-lying hills. As usual after a long land-locked spell, it was bliss just to be back out on the water, feeling the rhythm of the paddle strokes and enjoying the sights, sounds and smells of the ocean. The cabins became more widely dispersed as we passed from Okeover into Malaspina Inlet, but I was beginning to be ever so slightly disappointed in the low-lying hills, the signs of habitation, and the lack of any wildlife.

All this changed, however, when we turned right into Desolation Sound itself. There was some chop and some rebound waves to cope with as we rounded the point, but we've been through much, much worse before, and our heavily loaded double kayak wasn't going to flip unless we wanted it to**. But even as we zig-zagged around to make sure none of the many waves and boat wakes hit us broadside, we were already starting to admire the snow-capped mountains at either end of the Sound, and seeing an abundance of seals and eagles.

Calmer water = photo time!

We found an island to camp on for the night, and apologised to the couple on the beach for disturbing their solitude. They very kindly helped us to carry the kayak up the sloping, stony beach to above the high tide line - even when empty it was a struggle for me to lift my end - and we had a nice chat with them before staking out our campsite, a short walk through the woods away. They'd recently retired and had driven an RV over from Alberta with two kayaks strapped to the roof, and were spending the whole summer on the BC coast, interspersing week-long kayak trips with more luxurious RV camping in various locations. I immediately started formulating "get rich quick and retire immediately" plans in my head (still working on it. I'll let you know if I make any progress. Or maybe I'll just buy an RV and some kayaks and bugger off and you won't ever hear from me again).

We got the tent up and went for a swim. Unlike on Savary and the Copelands (our last new favourite kayaking destinations), which as you can see from the map are very close to Desolation Sound but in a less sheltered piece of water, the water was gorgeous; cool enough to be refreshing, but warm enough to swim in for extended periods of time. And it was clear, and surprisingly fresh, for ocean water. There must be some massive rivers and/or glaciers feeding into the Sound somewhere, because the water didn't taste all that salty, and even after swimming multiple times a day for five days in a row, we didn't get that icky crusty salty feeling on our skin or hair.

We had a yummy gourmet hot-dog dinner, and settled in for the night as soon as it got dark. We could hear people in the cabins on the mainland shore, and on the many boats moored in the channel between our island and the mainland, but they all quietened down within an hour and I had a surprisingly good night's sleep, for a camping trip.

On our second day we re-loaded the kayak, said goodbye to our Albertan neighbours, and headed for our main destination. We'd heard that the Curme Islands were gorgeous, but "overrun with kayakers in the summer", according to one source. However, having started our trip on a Friday, rather than a Saturday, we thought we might have a head start on the BC Day long weekend traffic.

And so it proved to be! We saw one or two other kayakers on our crossing on calm waters over to the privately owned Mink Island, but they were mostly day trippers from boats and cabins. We were the first paddlers to reach the Curme group, and had a choice of several islands. We chose the one with the outhouse, and bagged the best of the three main tent sites: close to the landing beach (although we had to lift the boat up several levels of rock steps to get it above the high tide line, which took ages due to my wussy little girl muscles), with a dining room set made of driftwood logs, and with rocks behind us from which to fish, jump into the ocean, or watch the sunset. 

After we got the tent up we explored our new home, and declared it to be the best campsite either of us had ever seen. The terrain was similar to that of the Copeland Islands, but with much sparser tree coverage and hence better views in all directions. At one point Mr E Man stuck the camera in my face without warning and said "do a video for your blog where you walk people through the island as if it's our new summer home". So here it is! (Sorry about the low volume - this was our regular camera rather than our actual video camera, and we forgot that the mic isn't as good).

As well as the American Canadian bald eagles, we saw oyster catchers, gulls, vultures, humming birds, squirrels, mice, and dozens and dozens of seals.

And here are some views from the other side of the island (spoiled only slightly by some water on the lens):

I swear I don't work for Tourism BC, I just really really like it here

We kept expecting more kayakers to show up, but luckily when a group did come they chose another island, and we had ours completely to ourselves all day and all night. We cooked another yummy dinner, and settled in on the West-facing rock behind our campsite to watch the gorgeous sunset.

Yes, I wear socks with my beloved Keens in the evenings when I'm camping (because of the mosquitoes). So sue me.

Smoke from distant forest fires makes for spectacular sunsets

Sun down = bed time!

After another surprisingly decent night's sleep we got out of the tent early the next morning to find another beautiful day waiting for us, and jumped straight off a rock and into the ocean to celebrate. This was the only time on the whole trip I ever felt cold. After a brief swim and some breakfast, we hauled the kayak back down onto the beach in a series of painful steps (the low tides were all at really inconvenient times on this trip!), and set off on a day trip to Tenedos Bay. It was another gorgeous paddle, followed by a short walk through the woods to Unwin Lake for a freshwater swim. Unfortunately we had to clamber over a bunch of floating and semi-floating driftwood logs to get to the water... like that bit in Insomnia... this is the kind of thing I have nightmares about, and I fell off once into some shallow water and got covered in stinking black mud (and scraped my leg in the process), so I wasn't exactly happy. The lake was nice though,

It turns out that it's really difficult to take self-portraits while treading water

and we met the couple we'd raced against to load and launch on day one. They were looking for a new campsite after being a little disappointed in how crowded their first two had been, so we told them how great our island was, and they promised to check it out.

After a couple of hours of enjoying the really very pleasant lake, Mr E Man said what I'd been thinking: "this is nice, but it's not as nice as our campsite. I love our campsite. It's awesome". So we agreed to head back to base to see who had invaded our island while we'd been gone. The couple we'd talked to had, as had one other couple and another group of four much younger kayakers, but we were still nicely spread out and everyone had their own space and privacy.

Our new friends from the loading beach and the lake were surviving on freeze-dried food, whereas we had an overabundance of real food, so we shared our pasta dinner with them in exchange for some additional wine. After dinner the other couple joined the four of us on the sunset rock with yet more wine (the group of four younger paddlers kept to themselves), and we all proceeded to spend an extremely lovely evening chatting and getting pleasantly drunk together as the sun went down (and for a few hours afterwards too).

After a not so good night's sleep (too much wine), our drinking partners all left for home or for pastures new. Mr E Man and I had a swim and then a discussion over breakfast, and decided that we really weren't going to find anywhere better than where we already were (based on our own observations and on tales from our new friends), and that lifting the kayak up and down all the rocky ledges was going to be more trouble than it was worth. So we celebrated BC Day by spending a lazy day at camp: swimming, playing cards, swimming, playing Scrabble, swimming, reading, swimming, eating, and swimming. It was bliss, and we felt no guilt at all about our "enjoy the destination" mode of ocean kayaking***.

Improving our "taking self portraits while treading water" technique slightly.

Some new kayakers showed up, and we pointed out the best campsites and chatted briefly, but they seemed inclined to keep to themselves, as did the younger paddlers when they returned from their day trip. But yet again we had a fabulous evening chatting and snuggling and watching the sunset and drinking the last of the wine.

That night I crawled into the tent to sleep, little suspecting the horrors that awaited me. The first three nights had been fine, with little more than the sound of the waves to disturb my sleep, so I'd been lulled into a false sense of security. This made it all the worse when I was awoken at about 2:45 am by The Noise.

It  was a kind of combination barking/snorting/coughing/teeth chomping noise. Definitely an animal. A big animal. A big, loud, scary animal. The Noise started on one side of the tent, then moved to the other.

Unbelievably, Mr E Man was still asleep at this point. But not for long, because I switched on the flashlight that hangs from the ceiling of our tent and started shaking him and frantically whispering "DO YOU HEAR THAT???!!! I THINK THERE'S A BEAR!!!!!!"

As a born and bred Canadian, Mr E Man does not share my terror of bears. I keep trying to explain to him that to Europeans, big scary animals with huge teeth that live in the woods and make scary noises are the domain of fairy tales, things that frighten and thrill you when you're a kid, but aren't supposed to be real. So when we do something ridiculously foolhardy like move to Canada, we freak the hell out as our childhood nightmares come to life.

Or something.

Anyway, Mr E Man initially seemed freaked out by the noise too, but then calmly tried to talk me out of my own fear by saying "it's probably a seal. Maybe a sea lion. It's low tide, right? It's probably eating those oysters and clams we saw on the beach when we arrived at low tide".

Yeah, nice try dude. Bears swim and eat shellfish too - our new friends had met someone who'd had a bear wander through his nearby island campsite the day before, also at low tide - and anyway I've heard seals and sea lions, and they just don't make that kind of noise. Or move that fast, on land (The Noise was moving. A lot).

At this point Mr E Man realised that I was too scared to be talked down, so he decided to get out of the tent to see what was happening. Bear spray in one hand and air horn in the other, he peered bravely out into the darkness, but couldn't see anything. A new and slightly different (chompier) occurrence of The Noise, closer this time, persuaded him that he really didn't want to startle or otherwise disturb the maker of The Noise, so he slipped discretely back into the tent. Luckily The Noise soon started to gradually move a little further away, and after a couple of hours of listening intently into the night while sitting up facing the door of the tent, gripping the can of bear spray with white knuckles, I relaxed enough to fall back asleep (Mr E Man had been snoring away within a few minutes of getting back into the tent).

I left the light on, though.

I'd had maybe 20 minutes of sleep when The Noise came back, closer than ever. It was now 5:45 and starting to get light, but it was still too dark for courage. I shook poor Mr E Man awake again, and he declared that he absolutely had to know what it was, and picked up the air horn and bear spray again. I begged him not to go outside - The Noise sounded different, more aggressive somehow, than it had earlier - and he reluctantly relented. After another half hour or so The Noise was gone for good, taking my capacity for sleep along with it.

Of course, as soon as it was properly light and I was brave (or at least slightly braver) again, I regretted not finding out what had been making The Noise. We looked everywhere for prints or scat, but none were to be found on the rocks or scrubby grass and parched, hard crust of soil. Our bag of food, hanging on the end of a rope slung over a tree branch that we'd thought was probably too low, was undisturbed. Our neighbours had all heard The Noise, too, and everyone thought it was a bear. Even Mr E Man says that the more he thinks about it, the more he agrees that it couldn't have been a seal or sea lion. (Our neighbours had met someone who'd claimed to have seen a couple of wolves a few kilometres away the week before, but that's just silly).

Anyway, the thought of The Noise made me feel slightly better about having to leave our idyllic island campsite and head home. We had one last swim before hauling the kayak back down to the beach, packing up, and retracing our route from the first two days, back along the Sound, round the point, and into the Malaspina and Okeover Inlets. It was another nice paddle, although after the splendour of the last few days, the last hour's scenery seemed rather tame and pedestrian in comparison.

Overall it was an amazing trip and I got out of the kayak at the end covered in bruises, bug bites, sun burn, blisters, cuts and scrapes, but with a grin as wide as the Sound itself. Great weather, spectacular scenery, gorgeous campsites, great people, good times. Yes there are scary noises in the dark, but hey, now that I've had a bear in my campsite at night (one of my worst nightmares) and survived unscathed, maybe I'll be a bit braver in future.

A very little bit.

Maybe.

My fear of clambering over floating driftwood logs remains intact, but I'm not going to let that get in the way of more kayaking trips, either.

-----------------

*shopping while hungry caused a serious kayak hatch overload problem. We ate a ton of food, gave some away, and still brought a whole bunch back. Maybe next time Mr E Man will take my "let's plan meals in advance and make a shopping list" idea more seriously.

**having said that, I feel more vulnerable in the front of a double than I do in a single or in the back of a double. It's all about having control of your own rudder - without that control over my direction I get a bit nervous in choppy water!

 ***in the past, we've gone kayaking with people whose idea of a good trip is to cover as much distance as they possibly can each day. To each their own... but what we like most about kayaking is the access you get to beautiful, isolated camping spots. So we try to enjoy them as much as we can once we get there. Also, we're a wee bit lazy.

Sound as a pound

Right, we've got charts, a compass, tide tables, two Swiss Army knives, bear spray, and an air horn*, and we're off on an adventure! (Well, we're actually off to my mother-in-law's today, which isn't all that adventurous, even when our nephews are there, which they are. The adventure starts tomorrow morning).

If anyone needs me I'll be on a horse in a kayak, somewhere in Desolation Sound (so called because Captain Vancouver saw it on a bad day. Apparently it's beautiful and not at all desolate - at least not in summer).

Oh, and our tenant's still going to be around, so don't even think about breaking into our house while we're away! He's a seriously big dude (6 foot 7 and built like a brick shithouse) who's bodyguarded for Jean Claude van Damme and Vin Diesel, among others. He's loaned us his bear spray; he often comes across bears in the course of his (non bodyguarding) work duties, but they run away from him. Seriously. He has an example of this kind of interaction caught on a tape from a work security camera, but I'm not allowed to post it.

He's the big one in this photo - and bear (hah!) in mind that none of the other three guys is exactly petite.

Left to right: Mr E Man, my Dad, our massive tenant, baby Lilah's Dad

He's also a fantastic cat sitter, and the kitties love him.

BTW, expect (slightly) more science blogging than you've been used to when I get back! (Don't worry, you can skip the science posts if you're not interested. Same goes for any other kind of post, obviously, although I assume that every single reader is riveted by the ongoing dental floss conversation).

------------------
*Conversation while reserving kayaks:

Me: "is there much bear activity up there at the moment?"
Woman in kayak shop: "there's one on the lawn right now! It's looking at me through the window!"
Me: "..."

Hence the bear spray and air horn.

Springing back

I'm getting my hair cut tomorrow!

Really exciting news, eh?

Well, it is to me! I haven't had a hair cut for months, because I just haven't had the time. Literally every weekend since the beginning of the Olympics has been jammed; I've been double or even triple booked almost every day of every weekend, and plenty of weekday evenings too.

It sounds incredibly whiny to complain (and I do apologise for said complaining), because it's all been really fun stuff and it's been a privilege to experience it. I loved the Olympics, I loved having my friends and then my parents here (for a total of seven weeks in just over two months). I even enjoyed most of my training for the Vancouver-Seattle ride; I just seriously underestimated how much of my time it would take up, especially in combination with hosting visitors. I've had to turn down lots of invitations to fun events this year, and I feel like I've neglected many of my friends.

I've also neglected myself. I find that I need some down-time at least every second weekend; time spent just hanging out, either by myself or with just Mr E Man. Time spent reading, writing, playing my guitar, playing card and board games with Mr E Man, or online Monopoly when I'm feeling really burned out - that kind of thing. But I haven't had any real down-time for such a long time (hosting jet-lagged UK visitors eliminates even my early morning pre-work pseudodown-time), and I've been feeling it, both mentally and physically. In fact I've been feeling much the same way my hair looks - as it gets longer, its own weight starts to pull the curls out of it, and when it's not being limp and flat it gets fuzzy and annoying instead.

Last weekend, I had my first real down-time in months. It was heaven. I didn't do ANYthing (except watch football) on Saturday, then on Sunday I actually had the time to go clothes shopping to replace the literally falling-apart clothes I've been walking around in. I just got some jeans and capris and t-shirts, but it's so nice to have more than three outfits composed of intact items of clothing again!

I've also started to be able to plan things again. Things that are selfishly all about ME ME ME (well, and Mr E Man too. But mostly ME). Last weekend I bought tickets for a music festival on Vancouver Island, and booked a week off work for a kayaking trip (destination TBD). I also signed up for the MS Society 60 km bike ride, a really fun event that I did a couple of years ago - 60km is a piece of cake now, and I could afford to cover the minimum donation amount myself without having to bug any of my friends. I feel like I've got my life back, and the summer can finally begin!

And tomorrow I get to break free from the last of the dead weight! My curls will spring back - and hopefully, so will I!

Cuba: beach days

I've never done the all-inclusive thing before, and when we first began to plan this trip, I wasn't planning to start. But it turned out that a package of one week's 5-star* all-inclusive accommodation plus direct charter flight from Vancouver to Varadero cost only $100 each more than buying just the flights from Air Canada, which would also have entailed spending a night in or near Toronto airport. So in the end, it was a no-brainer. We had to pay an extra $100 each to push the return flight back by a week, but it still worked out as a good deal!

We stayed at Sandals, near the end of the Varadero peninsula.  It's a really well laid out resort; low-rise (no more than three storeys) with lots of greenery, including an area we called Narnia:

We said to another couple we met "the quickest way back to the restaurant is through Narnia", and they looked at us like we were nuts

and some really well constructed public spaces (i.e. bars).

And, of course, the beach.

The beach was simply amazing. Mr E Man said it was better than anything he's seen in Australia, Thailand, or Bali. Powdery white sand, turquoise water, nice big waves to play in... heaven!

wave!

Being peelywally Celts, we always chose shady chairs under the palm-thatched umbrellas to sit and read and play cards or chess, but we spent most of our time in or on the water. There was only one day when the water was calm enough to take out the resort's kayaks, but we made the most of it! They were the sit-on-top kind, but the nice warm water didn't warrant the greater stability of the more enclosed kayaks that we're used to.

Time for a new profile photo, perhaps?!

We had tons of fun trying to kayak surf - and the instructor who once told me that it's a difficult skill to master and that I should take a course before trying it was proven correct, as we managed to roll the thing in a great big wave as we were trying to come back to the beach! I found myself under water with no idea which way was up, or where the boat and paddle were, so I instinctively curled into a ball and covered my head with my arms until a couple of other waves had gone over me and I knew the coast was clear. This caused Mr E Man and a couple of other observers to freak out for a few seconds, until I resurfaced with a big grin shouting "that was fun, let's do it again!" (and we did, after I retrieved my paddle from 30 metres down the beach).

After a long hard slog of grants and manuscripts and swine flu and no vacation days since early March, this first unchallenging week was just what the doctor ordered!

Modelling the latest in beach haute couture

----------------
*A Cuban 5-star is like a 3.5-star anywhere else. Embargoes will do that to ya.

A Mad Tea Beer Party

I got to meet another of my favourite bloggers yesterday! (That's three blog meet-ups now, and they've all been great. I highly recommend it).

This time it was Mad Hatter's turn. She's in town for a few days, and had a long enough window in her busy schedule that I got to take her kayaking! It was a very windy day for this time of year, so my promised "leisurely paddle no more than 20 metres from the beach" turned into a solid two hour workout, during which we had to fight to get the boat to turn back towards shore from the middle of the harbour. But despite being a novice kayaker, Mad Hatter paddled like a pro and didn't let the wind or waves phase her. She even claimed to enjoy herself! No eagles out yesterday unfortunately, but we did spot a seal, some cormorants, a tern, and assorted gulls.

Meeting a blogger is a bit of a weird experience, with elements of both a blind date and a catch-up with an old friend. You really can get a decent impression of what someone's like from their blog, and indeed Mad Hatter was much as I expected her to be - smart, funny, and with lots of common ground to talk about! Our animated conversation about blogging, science, pets, and life in general continued after the kayaking, on Vancouver's best patio...


...and the four hours we spent together simply flew by.

Thanks mate! I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay!

Unanswered questions:

• How did Massimo guess who I was meeting on his first try?
• What would his other two guesses have been?

The Five Question Interview

Crystal from "Chances Are I'm Going To Hell For This" was recently interviewed by her friend - and posted the results on her blog. She also chose to perpetuate the meme by asking for willing interview victims subjects in the comments, and I obliged, because I'm egocentric like that. So here are my answers to Crystal's five questions!

1. What/ who influenced you to go in to science?

Good question... I've often thought that I was just plain destined to get into science, because it matches my personality and thinking patterns so well. But there were lots of people who helped me to discover this compatibility.

I got interested in biology through loving cute animals, so I would have to cite James Herriot and David Attenborough for sparking that interest. And of course I have to thank my Mum, who watched all the wildlife documentaries with me, and successfully argued with my Dad that we should get a cat.

As my knowledge of biology matured, I became interested in smaller and smaller units of life - from cute lion cubs down to organs, then cells, then finally viruses and genes. I had an amazing biology teacher by the name of Ann(e) La(w/u)rence (sorry Miss, can't remember the spelling!) from the age of 14-18 - I've actually been planning a series of posts about great teachers, and you can bet she'll be in there - who was incredibly animated and enthusiastic about her subject, but especially about genetics and evolution. And once she taught us those things, I stopped searching for smaller and smaller things to investigate, turned 90 degrees, and headed off into an in-depth exploration of genetics. I guess if she hadn't intervened, I might have continued on to chemistry and then subatomic particle physics...

2. What would you do/be (besides science) if money were not important?

I'd be living on a sailboat (summer) and little rustic cabin (winter), travelling around the BC coast and writing a book.

3. How did you know your hubby was "the one"?

(Super-lameness alert).

When we first met, I was halfway through a two-year postdoc / work permit. So when I met this hunky Canadian carpenter at a big group dinner one night, I didn't automatically think "long-term relationship", let alone "future husband". But I really enjoyed talking to him, and when he gave me his number, I was more than happy to call him up (after the obligatory two day wait, of course) to arrange a date.

Still not thinking any further ahead than a month or so at a time, we started to see more and more of each other, and the more I got to know him, the more I liked him. The first time I knew we had something really special was on our first overnight kayak camping trip, about five months into our relationship. We went skinny dipping at midnight (yes, in the sea, in Canada, in May - just about worth it for the awesome phosphorescence) and then snuggled around a campfire on the beach.

But the first time I knew he was "the one"? We were hanging out in my shared house on a rainy Saturday afternoon, playing cribbage. He said something that made me laugh - and it kills me that I can't remember what it was - and I just suddenly realised that I wanted to spend all my rainy Saturday afternoons with him, and that I would be delighted to find myself playing cribbage and listening to his silly banter when we're both in our eighties.

I told you it was lame.

4. Are you planning on having kids anytime in the future?

Nope.

As discussed before, I have multiple reasons for this choice, the primary reason being that I just innately and emphatically know that it isn't for me.

Plans can change... but I am at least 95% sure that if you come and find me in 10 years, I still won't have any kids.

I'm VERY excited though that two close Vancouver friends are pregnant (after years each of trying, they'll be giving birth two weeks apart - wonder what was in the water that month). I've already told them both that I want to be a very active and involved Auntie.

Kids are awesome - as long as you can give them back.

(On my research retreat last week, I had four female colleagues (aged 30s - 50s) separately ask me the same question. When I gave my answer, all but one said "oh, you really should, you know". So the next time someone tells me that they have kids, I want to say "oh, you really shouldn't have done that, you know").

5. What is the most embarrassing drunk thing you have ever done?

OK, this is pretty shameful. One drunken night in my shared student flat in Glasgow, my flatmate and I somehow got into a discussion about the Seven Deadly Sins. Except that we weren't sure what they were. Her version (from her Catholic school education in Ireland) was different to my version (from the movie Se7en, heh), and we had no Bible, encyclopedia or internet to hand.

So... we went to the phone book and got the number for a local convent. Because we were drunk and the answer just simply COULD NOT WAIT, we ignored the fact that nuns are mostly in bed well before 11 pm, and called the number anyway. (When I say we, I mean that I dialled, but she encouraged me and assured me that the nuns wouldn't mind).

Me: "Oh hello, I was just wondering if you could tell me what the Seven Deadly Sins are?"
Nun: ".............................no." (click).

We looked the answer up on our other flatmate's computer the next day. My version was right.

Now it's your turn! Do you want to be interviewed?

If you do - here are the rules:

1. Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me" AND leave your email address (or blog link) in the comment!
2. I will respond by emailing you (or commenting on your blog with) five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions. (If you don't have a blog, I can post your answers here).
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

Lund Day 5-6: Pootling Around

We've just got back from yet another night under canvas. (In fact I'm at that stage of a hangover where all I want to do is eat and eat and eat, and I'm trying to resist). As fun as the weekend was, I don't really count it as a proper camping trip. We pitched out tent next to our friends' 5th wheel, which they park at Cultus Lake (barely an hour out of Vancouver) for 5 months a year. The campsite is great for kids, and our friends' 6 year old son loves it, but I don't really like being crammed in next to RVs and waking up to the sound of trucks on gravel not 3 feet away from my head.

Proper camping involves waking up somewhere like the Copeland Islands to the sound of waves lapping on the shore, birds singing, and arbutus leaves rustling in the breeze. Getting up and making breakfast over a propane stove

Breakfast: egg beaters scrambled with bacon, mushrooms and cheese, orange juice, tea.

and chatting to the few fellow campers and boaters who wander by. Playing some cards and eventually deciding to take the kayak out to try and catch some lunch.

Thankyou, BC Parks, for clearing the big rocks away to make this makeshift boat launch. It made our lives so much easier.

Pootling slowly around the entire marine park and the surrounding waters, dropping the crab trap occasionally with no success whatsoever. Playing with our jigging pole, and - in my first ever serious attempt at fishing - catching a fish on my second cast! I don't know who was more surprised, me or the fish. (Actually it was probably Mr E Man, who confessed later that he thought I'd snagged some kelp in one of my frequent displays of clumsiness). Mr E Man caught one too, and dealt with all the cleaning and gutting, although I've promised to let him teach me this essential Canadian skill at some point.

Lunch: extremely fresh fish sauteed with garlic, lemon juice and white wine

A proper day of camping should take place in a pristine natural environment full of wildlife (we saw a deer right by our campsite) that's ripe for exploring

Video taken from a small hill on our island. The film cuts out as the camera faces our campsite.

and should end with a delicious one-pot dinner

Dinner: cheese and asparagus ravioli with garlicky bacon and a jar of spinach/tomato sauce, bottle of local Merlot.

and a snuggle with your sweetie.

The next and final day dawned to the sight of two campers frantically trying to get packed and ready in time for the high tide. We were a little late, but luckily didn't have to carry the boat too far. We paddled back to Lund by the fastest route, having illustrated John Steinbeck's point that while some journeys keep on going long after you reach home, others end while you're still on the road*. In our case, thoughts of home inspired us to dip and pull and unpack and hop in the car without much in the way of pauses or reflection. But the memories of Savary and the Copelands will stay with us until the next long trip.

For the record, here are the things I miss the most when I'm camping, in order:

• The kitties
• The shower
• The king size bed
• My electric toothbrush

And here are the things I miss the most about camping when I come home:

• The ocean
• Campfires
  
• Scheduling our actions to the natural rhythms of tides and sunrises, rather than clocks
• Getting away with being scruffy and talking to strangers
• The eagles

*From Travels with Charley, one of my all-time favourite books.

Lund Day 4: The Copeland Islands

You know how I said I'm not a big fan of open water crossings? Well, Day 4 contained a doozy. We haven't measured our journey properly yet, but we're pretty sure it was our longest paddling day ever (at least in terms of distance - we've spent more hours on the water before but didn't get as far, thanks to brutal currents and winds). Luckily the crossing was calm again, and we got to spend the afternoon in a much more interesting and pleasant kayaking environment.

Breakfast: oatmeal bars, apples, apple juice.

We timed our launch quite well, meaning that we got up early and had everything packed and ready to go just after the high tide. We decided to break the journey to the Copeland Islands by stopping in Lund for lunch and to pick up more beer essential provisions. There was hardly any wind, and the sea still looked nice and calm, so we decided to take the long way around Savary.

I do like to circumnavigate things, it makes me feel more adventurous.

The rest of the South side of the island was just as lovely as the parts we'd already seen - sandy beaches, trees, eagles, envy-inducing holiday homes. We even found the Gatorade bottle and crab trap that had been MIA since the day before - right where we'd left it, which was very confusing. How the hell did we miss it the day before when it was so visible this time?! It was a higher tide than when we'd lost it, so it wasn't just a matter of the float being dragged under and then reappearing on the surface as the water level dropped. This conundrum is still bothering me!

Anyway. As we rounded the island's Western tip we started to follow the original plan of hugging the coast, but then realised that the group of houses on the horizon were actually Lund. Mr E Man was getting hungry (breakfast did not meet his usual standards), and asked me if I'd mind if we just went for it. I eventually agreed, and we started a super-fast paddle directly towards the harbour.

The crossing wasn't bad, as these things go, but my awesome power stroke (using my core muscles to pull myself up to the paddle, rather than pulling the paddle back towards myself using my arm and shoulder muscles) aggravated my recurring sacro-iliac joint problem. Ouch. It's still a bit sore now actually. I started whining about it when we were about two thirds of the way there, and called more rest stops than usual. It was lucky for us that the conditions were so great, I wouldn't fancy stopping that often in heavy rollers! I was exhausted by the time we reached Lund, having resorted to arm and shoulder work rather than using my core muscles, and was more than ready for a nice cuppa tea and some restaurant food.

Lunch (at the Lund hotel): halibut and shrimp burger with fries (I earned them), tea, beer (hey, I was on holiday).

By the time we'd finished eating and restocked the beer cooler front hatch, I was feeling much better and raring to go. I'd even managed to make my sacro-iliac joint click a few times, which always seems to help but is probably terribly bad for me. We headed North this time, into the Copeland Islands Marine Provincial Park.

Hooray for hugging the coast! And more circumnavigation! And for scanners that suddenly stop recognising colour for no apparent reason!

I can't possibly recommend this destination highly enough. It was just amazing, and is now my favourite kayaking location (for the record it replaced the Northern Gulf Islands, between Vancouver Island and the mainland). Some of the park's islands have steep rocky sides that towered over our heads, covered in starfish and plants; others have shallow gravelly beaches, studded with oyster shells. There were arbutus trees everywhere - I have included the embarrassing fan girl tag to come out of the closet about my adoration of these trees and the silky-smooth red wood that's revealed by their signature peeling bark. I have an overwhelming urge to touch these triumphs of evolution every time I see one.

Arbutus porn. I challenge you not to stroke one of these beauties if you see one.

We toured basically the entire park looking for a good campsite, and eventually found one with a suitable beach that was not too crowded. It even had an outhouse! This feature made me very very happy, which proves that I need to toughen up if I want to call myself a wilderness camper.

Home sweet home!

Again the water was too cold for a long swim, but we gave it our best shot. By high tide the water reached the log at the bottom of the photo above, so we decided not to have a campfire due to the risk of embers flying up into the overhanging arbutus trees. A forestry official came around the next day to say that although a campfire ban wasn't in place just yet, it was imminent (it actually started later that week), so could we please not have a fire, or keep it small if we did have to have one? When we told him about our decision the night before he replied that he was heading off to find people who weren't as thoughtful as us!

Dinner: Thai red curry, beer, and a local Gewurtzraminer that was quite pleasant but a bit too sweet. A massive hit. I fried up some onion, mushrooms and red pepper, stirred in a packet of red curry sauce, added a can of coconut milk, waited until it was hot and then tipped in two packets of instant noodles, topped it up with a little water, and cooked it all up together until the noodles were soft and the sauce had thickened. Camp cooking at its best!

We went to bed earlier than on Savary Island, due to the lack of a fire and moonlight as much as the tiredness. And man was I tired! I usually wake up at least two or three times during the night when camping, but this time I slept like a log. Mr E Man's loud snoring is very comforting in these situations as I'm pretty sure it scares the bears away. And I am TERRIFIED of bears, despite Mr E Mans insistence that there wouldn't be any on such a small island. (Dude, they can SWIM! Although I'm sure they're unlikely to bother given the temperature of the water and long odds of getting enough to eat). I have an amusing bear / camping story that I will tell in some other future post...

Lund Day 3: Camp Life

We loved our Savary Island campsite and decided to just hang out and enjoy it for a full day. Here's a little spinarama video - the sand fleas were indeed jumping all over the place, but only in one localised spot. And at least there were no mosquitoes, unlike at our second site.



The water was pretty damn cold, so our planned swim turned into more of a brief cleansing splash. Luckily the sun shone all day so we dried off pretty quickly. We made ourselves a hearty brunch that we shared with our neighbour, John,

Brunch: egg beaters scrambled with onions and cheese, olive focaccia bread, apple juice, tea.

and had a nice walk along the beach, checking out the neighbours as we went:

Jellyfish FAIL!

Mmmmm, pretty. We saw literally thousands of purple and orange starfish, stranded on the beach or above our heads on steep rock walls, waiting for the high tide.

There were hundreds of baby crabs in the shallows, so we decided to try our luck catching their bigger relatives in the rented trap. We paddled out towards some submerged rocks and dropped the tuna-baited trap into the water, with an empty Gatorade bottle attached to act as a floating marker. We paddled off and played with the rod and reel for a bit, with absolutely no success at all. We pulled the crab trap up after a while, found it to be empty, and set off paddling aimlessly again.

At this point we got distracted by the loud sound of *something* repeatedly jumping out of the water and slapping itself back down. We identified the source of the sound and splashing, and headed towards it, but we couldn't get close as it kept moving away from us. We thought at first that it might be a dolphin, but were later told that it was probably a sea lion stunning its fishy lunch. Whatever it was, by the time we got back to the rock where we'd dropped the trap, the Gatorade bottle was completely gone. Seriously. We looked for it for ages, before deciding it could have been dismantled by one of the nearby seals trying to get at the tuna.

After a couple of games of crib, it was time for dinner and a fire.

Dinner: same as the night before, we could only get a big pack of smokies and damn they were tasty! Plus a nice tetrapak of French cabernet merlot.

Fires are almost my favourite thing about camping. Even our most miserable trip (in the Sechelt Inlet), when I dropped the kayak on my foot, got stung by a bee, burned myself with hot cooking oil and it rained from the time we arrived at the campsite until we got back to the rental place the next morning, was made tolerable by the time spent snuggling with Mr E Man around the campfire that kept us warm all evening. This beach fire brought John back for a beer and a smoke, and also attracted some random Brooklyn guys staying at a nearby cabin, who gave us marshmallows and fetched fresh wood in exchange for sharing our fire.

Dig a pit in the sand, add newspaper, cardboard food wrappings and driftwood, and unleash your inner pyromaniac.

The night's entertainment was provided by a full orange moon rising over the town of Powell River. Seriously, who needs TV?!

Moon rise through the driftwood shelter. Also my new screensaver.

Lund Day 1-2: Savary Island

While there are some amazing kayak destinations close to Vancouver, this five day trip was our longest to date and we decided to go a little further afield. The trip up to Rockfish Kayaks in Lund involves a drive, a ferry, another drive, another ferry, and a final drive. Mr E Man usually hates to do any driving straight after his long and tiring day, but this time he agreed that we should leave after work on the Wednesday night. Luckily his Mum lives about halfway between Vancouver and Lund, so we got the familiar first ferry and some of the driving out of the way by staying with her on the first night.

The first of several amateur map doodles I'm going to subject you to.

Thursday's drive felt like the real start of the adventure. The Sunshine Coast is gorgeous, but familiarity breeds complacence and it was great to continue North from Half Moon Bay for only my second time. We arrived at Earl's Cove just in time for the 9:30 ferry, which took us through some lovely scenery as we ate our breakfast. Boats are my all-time favourite mode of transport, although BC Ferries don't contain the bars that are de rigeur on British cross-channel ferries, so we spent most of the 50 minute crossing out on deck and enjoying the ride.

A most civilised way to travel. This photo was actually taken (on my iPhone!) on the return journey when all my muscles hurt, which explains why I didn't get up from my shady seat on top of the lifejacket container to take a better photo that didn't include a lifeboat.

We stopped in Powell River for groceries, and on a whim picked up a three day fishing licence and rented a fishing rod and crab trap. Upon arriving in Lund we bought the final essentials: cold beer, and plenty of ice. The girl in the rental place wasn't exactly the passionate kayaker and enthusiastic source of destination information that we usually encounter - in fact she gave the distinct impression of being a local who'd taken any old summer job going. Having said that she had our boat and gear ready and waiting, helped us get it down to the water, attached a hose to a tap so we could fill our water containers, and was able to give us a vague recommendation that "most people prefer the South side" when we asked about good campsites on Savary Island.

We loaded up our lovely double kayak while it half-floated and half-perched on a boat ramp: clothes, pots and pans, cooking and eating utensils, stove and gas cannisters in the rear hatch; tent, sleeping bags and air mattress in the centre; food, beer, wine and ice in the front; pumps, charts, spare paddles, sun screen and water bottles strapped on top; and big heavy water containers between our legs in each cockpit. (We took way too much water, but it's better to have too much than not enough. Ditto toilet paper - no camping trip was ever ruined by having too much of it).

And then we were off!

The first little stretch was the usual launch site obstacle course of boats and their wakes. This time we remembered to look backwards to see what the harbour would look like when we returned - failure to take this simple precaution has caused navigational confusion in the past. You can, if you choose, kayak in literally a foot of water and hug the shore for safety, crossing only at the narrowest point, but the sea was calm and we decided to head more or less straight for the Eastern tip of the island.

A more detailed amateurish map doodle

I don't usually like open water crossings too much, but this one was nice - great weather, calm water, not too long, and full of the joy of being back in a fully loaded kayak after far too long on land. We saw our first seal - a sleek doglike head in the water off to our left - after about ten minutes, and it was quickly joined by some friends. In fact at one point there were more and more heads popping up like whack-a-moles around the boat until there were at least a dozen surrounding us, probably more. There must be some good fishing in that channel!

We rejected the first couple of beaches on the South side of the island as too crowded with people, cabins, and tents. The third beach (Duck Bay) was devoid of permanent structures and completely deserted, so we dodged the many underwater rocks to pull up close to a driftwood shelter that someone had made, complete with a sign declaring "Cutler House - Visitors Welcome". One lone kayaker turned up a few hours later and camped about 200 metres away - he turned out to be a pretty nice guy who joined us for drinks around our campfire. But that's a post for another day!

Dinner: gourmet smokies with fried onions, cheese, mustard and ketchup. And beer. Chocolate macaroons for dessert.

It is very important to know the time and level of the high and low tides, for optimal tent placement and launch times. Why carry the boat all the way down to the low tide when you can wait for the water to come up to you?! Unfortunately we forgot to pick up a tide table on this trip and had to improvise with a series of sticks and a cell phone clock display... oops!

Back in the paddle again

The specifics of my most recent trip are coming up next, but before I get into the maps and photos and meal plans I wanted to write a long-overdue generalised post: Why I Love Ocean Kayaking.

The last two summers have been full of house buying and wedding planning and debt, and have kept me on terra firma and away from the world of paddles and sprayskirts. So the first few paddle strokes on Thursday were like a rebirth, a reminder of why I'm so happy in a kayak and why a salty fibreglass cockpit offers the best view of BC's spectacular coast.

I've never experienced anything else remotely like it. At approximately a walking pace, there's enough time and peace to take everything in. The sights, smells, sounds and tastes of the ocean and beach and mountains. The rhythmic splash of paddles hitting the water. The swells and rolls and occasional smacking great waves. The wildlife - seagulls and eagles and seals, oh my! I've never been lucky enough to see a whale from a kayak, but I've seen porpoises in Nova Scotia's Bay of Fundy, and seals literally everywhere. They come close, within a few metres, and regard kayakers with curiosity but no aggression. I could never get that close to the equivalent land predator (a wolf?) and feel so safe. The boats are incredibly stable and, with the exception of a couple of idiotic forays into rapids and strong headwinds (we learned a lot about what not to do in a kayak on that particular trip), feel as safe as a favourite chair. Especially if you're in a double kayak, and especially if it's fully laden with camping gear.

And that's the other thing. Kayaking opens up campsites that can't be accessed from land, but allows you to live a life of comparative luxury. My first ever camping trips as a teenager involved hiking around the Yorkshire Dales carrying all our gear, so we ate rehydrated packets of pasta and soup. On my first kayak trip we ate baked chicken, chili, and pasta salad made with fresh veggies, drank beer and wine, then followed up with coffee, French toast, bacon, fresh blueberries and maple syrup for breakfast. These days we always book a double kayak with a central hatch between the two paddlers, and we fill it with a large tent that hikers would die for, an air mattress, great food, plenty of booze, even ice! There's nothing like a nice glass of BC Merlot or a cold gin and tonic (with lime, of course) on a deserted beach.

You don't even have to go all that far, or go anywhere near a tent; I've seen seals, otters, eagles, leaping salmon, smaller flying fish (one landed in my sprayskirt once) and all kinds of bird life, all without leaving Vancouver harbour. I've paddled in the eerie calm of snow and of fog, all within a few hundred metres of roads and houses and shops and city parks. I try to persuade all our out-of-town visitors into a kayak, even if it's just for two hours along Jericho Beach, and everyone who's tried it has loved seeing the city from such a unique perspective. We try to get that same perspective on our own trips; the season was already over when we went to Portugal, but our day paddle in Nova Scotia was a resounding success, and also the source of my Blogger / Nature Network / Facebook profile picture - I really like that photo!

There is a downside, of course: sore muscles (mostly the stomach and back if you're doing it right, and mostly the arms and shoulders if you're doing it wrong), a wet bum, and sand all over your house for the entire season. How does it keep on appearing in the bath, weeks after the last excursion? It's a mystery I can only hope to solve by planning more trips. Two a year for the next thirty years should just about do it.

Cath and the City Part 2

The end of Part 1 saw me sitting on Jericho Beach and congratulating myself on fulfilling my dream of moving to Vancouver. Here's what happened next...

My first year in Vancouver was great. Hard at times, but great. I was lucky enough to be part of a very social lab in a very social department, and I found myself with an awesome group of friends who all lived close together in a part of town called Kitsilano. This was lucky because it can be pretty tough to meet people in this city, and I did spend quite a lot of time alone in my first year. I usually have more random conversations with strangers in shops, bars and on buses in my 2 week trips back to the UK than I do in a typical year here. So much for British reserve!

Living in Kits was like being on vacation the whole time. It's a bit twee, but there are great shops, cafes and bars, not to mention the beach. The World Cup was on in Japan that summer, and I would get up ridiculously early to watch the games on TV, then head to the beach at about 6.30 am. There's nothing quite like sitting on a log on the beach on a crisp sunny morning and watching the city come to life.

I took up kayaking, taking a weekend course on the first available date and then joining a club who went out every Monday evening over the summer. (This is the source of the photo above, which I liked so much when I posted it last time that I decided to make it a permanent feature). I went on my first kayak camping trip (more on that subject in a future post), went on some hikes, explored the city by bike, started to learn to ski, and generally enjoyed myself and saw as much as possible, in the way you do when you think you're only going to be in a city for two years.

There's nothing like a morning cuppa on the beach before a long day of paddling. I'm not going to tell you where this photo was taken because the campsite is already way too overcrowded on weekends! We try to make this trip an annual event, and we had the whole place to ourselves on a midweek trip one May.

I met Mr E Man almost exactly a year after I arrived. It quickly became obvious that I was going to be staying for a lot longer than two years.

Living permanently in a city gives you an entirely different perspective on things. There's no longer that mad dash to tick off every trip on your wish list. I also got to know a huge group of friends who all grew up here and who know the city in a completely different way. I eventually moved in with Mr E Man¹ and got to know a completely different area of the city. Commercial Drive is a seriously funky place, but introduced me to a whole other side of Vancouver. We had a choice of several excellent bars and restaurants within a two block radius, but would often open our front door to find someone sleeping on the front step. We'd hang out on some great neighbourhood patios, but be badgered for money by passing street people. We saw drug deals on a regular basis and were frequently woken by loud drunken yelling and unmuffled motorbikes on weekends.

See, that's the thing. This is a port city, and also the only place in Canada where you can sleep outside all year long without freezing to death. Everyone gravitates here. There are parts of town that are worse than anywhere I've ever seen. The number of people with mental health problems and / or addiction issues who live in the Downtown Eastside, on and off the streets, is simply staggering. The more I live here, the more I appreciate that this is not a paradise for everyone.

And while we're talking about the city's downsides, I have to mention the rampant NIMBYism (Olympics? No! Rapid transit expansion? No!) and, of course, the rain. It rains a LOT here in the winter. The summers are great, but avoid November-April if you don't want to get wet. This last year was especially miserable; everyone was complaining about how dark and murky it was. Being a skier helps - if it's raining in town it's probably snowing on the mountains - but we can't afford to go skiing often enough to mitigate the gloominess.

But hey, the summers are great, and we'll hopefully be spared the worst of the predicted future water shortages. I just hope the American army is nice to us when they invade looking for water in 30 years or so ;-)

I've put down roots here now. We bought a house - not a very good house, but it's a start - and I am still in love with Vancouver. When I first moved here I'd have what I call "Vancouver Moments" - when I would catch a glimpse of the mountains or the water and think "I am so glad I live here". They're not quite as common now, but I still have my VMs. Especially on the first clear day after the onset of the nasty winter rain, when the mountains come into view from behind the clouds and reveal their fresh snowy caps.

View from our living room window. Part of the delay in writing this second post was due to the wait for clear weather at the right time of day - necessary for this photo! When we looked around the house, the previous owners stressed the mountain view and we scoffed about it in the car on the way home. "Call that a mountain view?! You can only see part of Seymour Mountain, and nothing of Cypress or Grouse!". Of course, now that we own the place, we tell everyone we have a mountain view.

The last couple of summers have been busy beyond all belief. We bought a house in 2006 and got married in 2007, and we spent more time with realtors, mortgage brokers, caterers and florists than with our friends. I only went camping and kayaking (on separate occasions) once each last year, and we never seemed to have any money. Now that the madness is over, I can't wait to start really enjoying the city and its surroundings again. The sunshine is back, camping trips are planned, and we're going for our first paddle of the year later today. Just a 2 hour cruise along Jericho beach with our out-of-town guests, but hopefully the start of a good season.

I look forward to seeing the city through our visitors' eyes; it's good to be reminded of how my time in Vancouver began.

¹He broke his leg and was powerless to stop me. I moved in to help him with his cooking and laundry while he was in his cast, and never left.