THE HBG&B WEEKEND REVEALED

Everyone?  Come and meet Ms. Frances Barkley, a hard-working, dignified lady, who was born in 1958 in Norway and then cleverly immigrated to Canada.   Our day with Frances was the highlight of an energetic, giggle-filled weekend, beginning on Saturday morning with a patio brunch featuring blueberry Dutch pancakes, barbecued Italian sausages and mimosas.  We then waddled to the car and drove to Coombs for a wide-eyed wander through the market, stopping to scarf down a hot dog by the giant stone sculptures in the Emporium before driving to Port Alberni and checking into our hotel for the evening.  And yes, Gramp's Canny Jar (or at least the contents of same) accompanied us, every step and nautical mile of the way.

To our unending delight, we managed to put off the great unveiling until the second we all stepped on the quay.  This required the cooperation of the staff at the Hospitality Inn in Port Alberni, where we overnighted on Saturday night.  Since everyone loves to be part of a secret, they joined in on the fun with many secretive winks whenever "the girls" were nearby, right from the desk clerk to the morning waitress who ensured our hot breakfast was delivered to us early so that we made our 7:30 a.m. Sunday dock time.



Our HBG - With a whale of a smile!

Thanks to RJ's wide-ranging browsing skills, we discovered this opportunity in a magazine, and we couldn't wait to try it.  Frances is a bona fide supply ship, delivering mail, lumber, groceries, hikers and fuel to remote native villages and outlying areas.  She carries on from her predecessor, The Lady Rose, who toiled for over 70 years before her.  We could hardly wait to experience the slower pace of yesteryear and have a glimpse of BC's history, as well as explore a few little villages and towns along the way.

Our route took us 35 nautical miles up the calm Alberni Inlet, and we stopped to drop supplies off at the Sechart Whaling Station,  an exclusive lodge that is well-favored by the kayak crowd.   As we cruised through the Broken Islands, we caught sight of a few whales - mostly well away from our ship but finally, within the reach of the camera lens.  After several hours together the crew and guests worked like a well-oiled team and with the first cry of "whale!", we all rushed to the side of the ship, our digital cameras clicking and humming in unison. We saw one breeching, and he treated us to a few tail flops and barrel rolls before the ship had to move on.    Piper Mahalo, the ship's mascot,  showed intense interest in all the goings on but when things were quiet he served as goodwill ambassador and comedian, entertaining all aboard with his cheerful personality and his dedication to enthusiastic bites of RJ's ears, for no particular reason at all. 

We arrived in Bamfield around four hours later.   Beautiful, bizarre and most definitely quirky, Bamfield welcomes you with a long boardwalk and an inviting stroll beside the harbour.   We disembarked while Frances tootled over to East Bamfield to drop off or pick up hikers from the West Coast Trail.    She then returned and busily loaded freight for a few hours, giving us ample opportunity to stretch our legs.  Our intrepid foursome explored the boardwalk, until we ran into a charming watering hole called the "Boardwalk Bistro."

The Boardwalk was owned by a cranky crustacean who did not bear fools well.  When I politely inquired if there was a spot we could enjoy a beer with our dog, she jerked with her thumb- "Yoo's can get over there to the Dog Bar."  Oh, good, I thought, we can actually have a beer! 

"What do you have on tap?", I politely inquired.   

"I gots one kinda beer and one kind only.  D'ya want it or not?"  Of course I did, and promptly ordered three tall ones.  Turned out they were a darned decent German beer, and we happily settled in at "The Dog Bar."  Of note, the Dog Bar was someone's front porch that directly abuts The Boardwalk Bistro.   We tentatively filed up there and sat primly, nursing our beer as we sat around someone's picnic table, and fervently hoped they would not return home.  Bamfield is very hospitable like that.  If someone's not home, then who cares?

Caught an astonishing sight on our wander back to the ship.   A very large sea lion was playing havoc with the salmon, circling around underneath a school and then launching himself toward them, causing them to break out of the water in silvery unison and allowing him to gorge.    HBG managed to get it on video.   Sorry, everyone,  but the video refused to load so you're going to have to take my word for it!

East Bamfield Harbour

By the time we checked out the General Store (fantastic ice cream cones), the tree-pee loo, and Bamfield's "cat house", we were ready to return to Frances for the three hour trip home.  Although the wind kicked up a bit and the rain arrived, we felt warm and cozy tucked into the little cabin.   Beer, hot chocolate, and the bottomless bag of canny made the hours fly by, and before we knew it, we were docked back in Port Alberni.

West Coast Style Bench

The Tree-Pee Loo



Cat House, Bamfield's privileged felines

 This wonderful adventure was a package deal through a fairly decent hotel in PA.  It included our room, a full breakfast (anything off the menu) as well as the day-long cruise.   We highly recommend it to anyone who feels they would enjoy a beautiful day on the water along with the camaraderie of curious tourists, happy hikers and extremely helpful crew.  The scenery is breathtaking and ageless,  the air pure and fresh and the wildlife bountiful.  A big, big double thumb's up!

p.s.   Sharing photo credits with HBG - thank you for your talented eye!

Sweet Dreams

Gramp's Famous Candy Jar

Yo!  Big adventures forthcoming on the last weekend of August, none of which I can tell you about since the guests of honor are both blog readers.   This is our annual SHBG+B (Surprise Holly By Golly + Bee)  Weekend, and all I can divulge is that it will involve solids, liquids, inert matter and about a gallon of gas, likely of the internal combustion type.  Next week's blog will contain adventures beyond belief, reason or budget, so brace yourself.

This painstakingly-constructed candy jar is to keep the back seat children busy during an undisclosed amount of time on the road.  I formerly used Gravol mixed in with their Fruit Loops, but now that they are over 30, they can handle the sugar rush.  I hope.

This week I want to give a shout out to a pretty fantastic music streaming website called Songza.  It's a free downloud and contains over 2000 pre-set playlists, carefully chosen for life's events.   Like, for instance, "Music To Get Naked By" or, "If It Weren't For Bad Luck, I'd Have No Luck At All."  How about "Hello, Hangover", classic country songs for the morning after?  The playlists are activity-related and are geared to such significant times such as Dirt Road Driving, Waking Up On The Right Side Of The Bed,  or Cooking With Friends.  If you'd rather just go with your mood instead of activity, there is a sub-category ranging from spacey to seductive and all the way back to funky.    From classical to bluegrass to poprock, showtunes, rap and world, the choices are endless.  Just keep in mind that it is best used on WiFI as you are streaming from a site.  If you are out there listening to it as you drive that dirt road, watch for the roaming charges.  It is a free download to your PC, IPad or IPhone.   Party on, dudes!

Also known as.....

I never appreciate technology more than when I receive a text, email or video that features my sweet grandbaby, William.  I am deeply honored to announce my official designation:  I have recently been christenened Nana Banana by Sir William, a title I intend to honor with complete and sober reverence.

A Midsummer Night's Dream

Saturni - Saturn's Day - August 4

Saturday morning found us on the road to Victoria, just The Mister, The Critter and Me, floating down Island on a perfect summer's morning in Ace.  Top down, tunes up, bugs in the teeth.  And what a fine weekend it was!  It began with a decadent facial at Aveda.  Some of you may recall, this was my long-awaited Natittivity gift from Bee on treatment day #2.   Sixty heavenly minutes of pampering, fragrant sprays, lotions, potions and ten tiny little fingers whispering their way around my jowls and wattles while I tried hard not to grunt out loud or succumb to a drenching hot flash.  I left there in a state of ravishness too profound to describe.

We dined at The Roadhouse that evening, and this is my second shout-out to this awesome pub on West Saanich Road.  If anyone out there is looking for a great place to go for a delicious meal at a decent price, this is a double thumb's upper.  As an added bonus, there is live entertainment - usually very down-home, West Coast type faire.  This pub just opened their doors about 6 months ago and is a real treasure.  Check out the ambience if you are in Victoria:

Bee had a wonderful after dinner surprise - a trip to Butcharts to take in the fireworks display.  We settled into our camping chairs at the top of a grassy knoll after enjoying watching the sun fade away.  But first - a short wander through the amazing gardens just before sunset -


An impromptu angel emerges from the Ross Fountain



Begonias in the evening light

The fireworks began as the last rays faded from the sky, and they were exhilarating.  They were accompanied by beautiful, musical scores that made them seem even more dramatic.  This was my first attempt at filming pyrotechnics and I nearly gave myself a breakdown trying to remember my F-stops from my ISO speeds while simultaneously trying not to knock over my tripod.  Seven or eight seconds waiting for my shutter to close had me in a full dither, but it did produce some passable shots:

This one was called "Angry Bees"

                             KABOOM!  A fitting way to end a beautiful summer night.


Sunnenday - Day of the Sun - Aug 5

Happy Anniversary to us!   We had breakfast with the orangutans and elephants at the  IMax "Born to be Wild" presentation, which was a heartwarming way to start off the day.  (Mental note: Next year I really want an orangutan for my birthday, Internet.  And maybe a large supply of Pampers.)  This was followed by lunch at the Rum Runner's in Sidney which was excellent, as was the stroll around the floating playground of the rich and famous.   Note the gorgeous hanging baskets next to the each boat slip!  Now that's classy.

And just for the record, I will drive to Sidney pretty much on a moment's notice for one of these:

Faceplant time

The day rushed by, as all good ones do, and by early evening we found ourselves in the lobby of the Royal Theatre in Victoria, excitedly anticipating the final performance of Mama Mia!  This was performed by the New York cast, and even though our seats were almost at the very back of the theatre, the fabulous acoustics and excellent lighting helped to make it an outstanding performance.   You know that, "glass half empty/half full" adage? Just about fifteen minutes into the performance, RJ whispered that he had a most pressing need to pee.  "Too bad!" I hissed back at him, "You shouldn't have drank that entire bottle of water!"   He settled back into his chair with a look of desperation.   The play was so excellent that I was instantly swept away by the music, and managed to ignore the foot shuffling and constant crossing and uncrossing of legs that was happening beside me.  And here comes the half-full part.   When those intermission lights flicked on, RJ bolted like a crazed superman to the aisle and shot to the washroom.  He was finished before anyone had even risen to their feet.  He returned much relieved and wisely shunned the second bottle of cool water for the duration of the performance.

Here's the glass half-empty part.  Remember I mentioned that our seats were almost at the back of the theatre?  Row X.  The only row behind us was an extra wide one for wheelchairs.  And there were a few back there, and as I settled into my own seat I noted that two of them were accompanied by nurses and a few emergency supplies.  A surreptitious glance behind me revealed that one poor fellow actually had a breathing tube in.   What the hell?  I said a couple of quick Hail Mary's, hoping that this event would not be their particular final curtain,  and then the lights dimmed, the music swelled, and we three became captivated.  Unfortunately, not long into the performance there came a few alarming sounds from behind us.   An undeniable howling sound, some strange whistles, and grunting.  These were accompanied by the sotto voice, soothing tones of the nurse. Although many people in front of us turned to stare,  I dared not look around, and I noted that both Bee and RJ stared fixedly ahead.  As much as I admonished both ears to tune into the stage, one persistently revolved backwards to capture the ongoing distressing sounds of gutterations, hissing, more groans and the occasional sharp squeak.   Eyes fixed front, unblinking,  I could have qualified for the honor guard for the Queen.   During the musical numbers it was possible to completely block out the sounds and the accompanying worry and sadness that I felt for these poor souls. Should I turn around and offer to help?  Or not?  Should I catch the eye of the nurse and make sure she was paying attention to her patient, who sounded very much like he was either suffocating or doing something quite naughty?  It was agony.   Finally, the play ended with a thrilling rush of music and dancing,  and the thundering standing ovation given by the wild audience produced three more fabulous musical numbers.

I, for one, had sternly admonished myself not to speak of anything negative that may have affected our enjoyment of the show.  We three chatted happily all the way back to the car, extolling the remarkable talent that we had just been so privileged to see.  However, not long into our journey home, Bee cleared her throat and innocently asked if anyone else had noticed a bit of distraction behind us.  Turned out all three of us were unable to look at each other or acknowledge in any way the scary things that were going on, else it would have opened that Pandora's box of uncontrollable hysteria that Bee is particularly prone to.  Thankfully, it waited to descend on us in the car, and the more we discussed our own genuine empathy and sense of respect to those who were simultaneously, but inadvertently, ruining the performance for us, the more hysterical we became.   It's truly a wonder we made it home in one piece.

Make ME Wait 45 Minutes? NOT.

The recheck appointment in Victoria was yesterday.  I felt confidently nervous as I walked into the BCCA offices for my 8 week check up with Dr. Adolescent and the Playboy bunny.   Dr. A was first.  He still cannot look at me eye-to-eye, but he certainly could direct his attention south about 10 degrees, if 'ya get my drift.  We had a pleasant, if brief chat, wherein I expressed concern over the few negative side effects experienced by hanging out with Tami Oxifen, and he looked simultaneously sympathetic and bored.  Heard it all before, yes indeedy.   He gave me a firm handshake (as his eyes roved around the room and searched the ceiling for invisible bugs) and said he'd like to see me in about 3 years' time, maybe when he was old enough to drive a car.   I wasn't overly disappointed with that plan, and happily watched him leave and close the examining room door behind him.

And then I sat, and sat, and sat and waited for a while, then I waited some more.   IPhone was pressed into service to provide frequent updates and bulletins to Bee, who was patiently waiting in the lobby.   I enjoyed three or four games of Solitaire.  Checked my hair, make up, and my weight (mistake).  Waited a little longer.  Read the bulletin board, which was full of scary stuff.  Sent two more texts, one of them profane.  Then! Eureka!  I found my little movie maker app.  All my time concerns evaporated as I pretty much annihilated every aspect of that little cubicle and sent them all off for Bee's enjoyment.   This one was one of my favorites - the direct result of having to stare at a sphygmomanometer for 45 minutes.

Finally, I opened the door just a crack and whispered to a passing nurse that I believed it was just possible that I had been forgotten.  She hurriedly rushed off and returned, embarrassedly explaining that, because Dr. A. had shut the door, Dr. Bunny had not dared to interrupt, believing we were deep in conversation.   In very short order I had been examined (my second and third time that day) by a student and Dr. Bunny, and they pronounced all well.  They saved the best part to last:  My next appointment with radiation oncology is - well - never.  "Unless you see me in Starbucks", she said, "I see no reason that we'll have to meet again."

And you know what?  I would have waited 10 x 45 minutes longer just to hear those words.