Salt Spring Island

Situated off the eastern coast of Vancouver Island, lies Salt Spring Island. This is one of what is known here as the Gulf Islands. They all lie in the Salish Sea, not in Puget Sound as I incorrectly wrote in an earlier blog. Puget Sound is an offshoot of this area and the Salish Sea.

My route here brought me over the sea on the CoHo ferry from Port Angeles to Victoria, the major city on Vancouver Island. Vancouver Island is vast and Victoria is situated at the South Eastern corner.

There are a number of other bikers on the ferry. Many are simply coming over to ride on Vancouver Island for the day and will return to the US in the evening. I see a couple on a Harley and note that they are my age or more. n the ferry I grab some breakfast at the small canteen and look for a place to sit. This couple call me over to sit with them. We introduce ourselves and have breakfast together. Mike and Kim. My accent intrigues them as it does most Americans and it is always a great conversation opener. Kim is also a granny and immediately got the fact that Eveanne had chosen to be with Nikki and the twins, rather than with me on the bike. That being said they did at least one long trip a year together on the bike. Mike and Kim thanks for your company.

 

As the ferry approached the city and the harbour it was immediately evident that this was a different country. The architecture is dramatically different for a start. This, like the whole area, is boat country. The more one is here, the more you realise why. It is ideal boating water. Sheltered waters are virtually always calm. Hundreds of small places to go to, means lots of alternatives, rather than what we have in South Africa where we always leave and return to the same place. Here you can cruise in these waters for a month and stop in a different town every evening or simply drop anchor in a protected cove for a week. Abundant sea life everywhere makes it a fisherman’s paradise.

 

On arrival my first sight was of a small aircraft dropping towards the water and harbour. I realised this was a float plane. These are used as day to day rapid transport throughout Seattle, Vancouver and nearby islands and also in Alaska. I will be getting used to them.

 

So off the ferry. Through Canadian Immigration who are very friendly and into the city. I have no idea where I am going to other than I need to catch another ferry. I know nothing of Vancouver Island or Salt Spring Island. The only reason I am going there is that it has an outstanding Relais and Chateau Hotel, Hastings House on the Island and I am booked there for three nights.

 

 

So I follow the GPS, with one small snag. I have two GPS’s and they are both telling me different things. So I go with the one. It is about 60 kms to the correct Ferry terminal according to the chosen GPS. This is at a small town north of Victoria called Sidney. On the way I drive past Island Motorcycles, the BMW agent and they are having an open day. I drop in and enjoy the vibe. I find one of the staff members who has driven, not ridden, to Alaska. It is doable he tells me and cannot stop telling me how awesome the scenery is.

 

I am off again, coffee’d up. I get to Sidney. The ferry terminal is massive and a hive of activity. I get to the Salt Spring Island entry and there are no cars. This will be easy I think. I buy my ticket and the lady informs me I have to hurry as the ferry leave in under a minute. This is why there are no cars. I proceed, as instructed to lane 30. The ferry is not about to leave. There are numerous motorbikes waiting and hundreds of vehicles including a tractor with a mower, cyclists and pedestrians with dogs galore.

 

Whenever people and in particular motorcyclists see my Michigan plates and load, they strike up a conversation. Across the US is a big deal and to Alaska a huge deal, so breaking  the ice is easy. I find out from Jerry that Salt Spring is a major daily destination and Saturdays are the day because they have the biggest market in the area. A flea and natural produce market.

 

Salt Spring is apparently a super cool place. Once, a home for the West Coast Canadian Hippy community. It is now home to artists, a few wineries, musicians and some of the super rich as a weekend and holiday destination. It is like a Midlands Meander on steroids. The trip over takes about 90 minutes. The water is super smooth and the islands are visible throughout. More people come and talk to me.

 

Soon we are at Fulford and off the ferry. I follow the GPS again but have a better idea of where I am going. 20 kms to go, these pass quickly. It is very scenic. I arrive in Ganges which is next to the hotel. It is a heaving mass of people for the market. I find my way to the hotel. This is situated in pole position at the end of the bay next to the Marina. It comprises the old manor house, which houses the bar and restaurant and then various out buildings in which are the bedrooms. I am in one of three rooms, in what was the old farm barn. Very comfortable. Terra who greets me and shows me to my room and apologises for the lack of air-conditioning but says it rarely gets as hot as it is. I do not like hot and this is certainly not hot, only warm. The cool ocean has a moderating effect on the climate.

 

Christo, the do everything guy, comes to help me offload. He is South African. A game ranger from the Waterberg, he met his Canadian wife who is a vet, when she spent time in the Waterberg on a research project. We are soon babbling on in Afrikaans, both delighted to have found a common link. He has lost his Afrikaans and I think that to start with, mine is better than his. I am hungry and am directed to a hotel over the road which has an all day restaurant. A bar meal. The lady who runs the bar, Alicia is a friend of Terra’s and makes sure I get well fed and carries on conversation with me.

 

After lunch I walk to the market. It is a flea market and not my scene. On the way back I stop. Am I seeing things? In my path is a snake! I soon realise it is the black household type, something similar to the one I found in my briefcase in my Farm office many years ago.

I keep on hearing aircraft taking off. It is a regular procession of float planes dropping people off and collecting them to take them to other islands and Vancouver itself. There are boats everywhere. Some small, some big and then a huge boat arrives.

On my return I find a note from Aiicia, the assistant manager inviting me to join her for a drink and then for dinner with her and her partner, Curtis who also rides bikes. Aiicia is a very exotic lady. Dark good looks. A great figure, this is not just WODES talking, she is the product of an Indian Father and a half Indian mother. Vancouver is home to a very large Asian community. She tells me her parents had an arranged marriage and then decided to drop out and become hippies, after which they moved to the island. They are still here some 25 years later.

She is on duty on her own for the first time this season as Kelly, the GM is off. She is very nervous that all will go well. Curtis arrives. It is clear that he is not at all happy about sharing his evening with this exotic being, with me. However once we start talking and sharing biking and golfing stories, the ice is broken and we all have a great evening and a great meal. Curtis has ridden as far as Las Vegas and on one occasion has done and “iron butt”, this is 1000 miles in a day. The challenge is staying awake. I will share the solution with you as even Curtis did not know it. The solution is chewing gum. Not to stick your eyes open, but because you cannot go to sleep whilst you are chewing something. Excellent wine and food. The noble late harvest with the cheese finishes me off.

Incidentally I ask him what he likes the most about biking. It is the smells of everything around you he replies. It is what I also tell everyone.

Soon after I get into bed I hear sirens galore. I wonder what it is all for. This is a backwater and this is a big noise. I go to sleep. A busy day ahead. In the morning a sleep in and a massage, then dinner in the evening with Christo and his wife. I think I will go to the nearby beach for a swim as well.

I only find out on Sunday afternoon that the sirens were the fire brigade and that some of the diner guests had started a fire in the garden, which spread out of control. Aiicia had only just arrived at her home when she was called back. They had four fire engines here and had to evacuate some of the rooms. Did not worry me at all.

So today, after watching Wimbledon, a quick breakfast, the massage.

The masseur hit the spots immediately. My lower back and left arm have been taking strain. My back for obvious reasons, but my left arm I suspect because of constantly using the two large fingers for changing the clutch. My left wrist has increased in size dramatically. Many of the people here, like D the masseur, are caught up in a dilemma, the same one people in her position find themselves in, in for example Franschhoek. These places, initially an escape for many, are now super popular and expensive, too expensive for them to rent and continue living in , but it is where the jobs are. Not in winter as everything also closes down and their summer is very short.

Afterwards I go for a walk to Churchill Road Beach. I pass a deer on the side of the road. We both stop and observe each other, then I move on keen to swim. The beach is not a beach as we know it. Shell and rock base, no sand. It is not a Danger Beach in St. James or Salt Rock, which is where the breakfast waitress comes from. There are South African’s everywhere. More than half the Doctors and Dentists on the island are from SA.

 

I think we do not really understand the extent of the brain drain over the past few years. Walking along I think about our various Beach houses. St. James. Simonstown, Arniston and St. James Again. I swore never again will we own a a beach house or a boat. Here I am thinking that here one of each would be very nice. No alarms and security companies needed here. With a boat, so many things to do. Am I loosing it? Has my mind gone?

 

A tread very gently over the stones. They have coral pieces on them. I am reminded of the first few days of our annual St. James holidays before our feet had toughened up. Walking to the beach on the very hot pavement. Treading on the curbstones. Eager to get to Danger Beach and see my heart throb lying there. No time for them to toughen up her. The water is great and not a glacial lake. I wallow around enjoying the salt water on my body. An obligatory wee in their sea.  Soon it is time to get out and brave the sore feet again. I make it and soon am back at the hotel.

 

Dinner with the boere tonight will be a pleasure. Tomorrow I am playing golf with Curtis. He will be a more formidable opponent. 40 ish and semi retired, he plays 5 days per week. I will see how my “you have the best swing ” routine works. Later I will ride around the island and then on Tuesday I take the ferry directly to Vancouver.

Alaska now draws ever closer. I have now been away from Eveanne and the clan for five weeks. It is a bit like hitting the wall in a marathon. I am asking myself a lot of questions. This is the reason one does these endurance based activities. To test oneself because it is only when you reach these points that the answers start emerging. In the US for four and on the road for three. There are nearly 4000 miles behind me and the real adventure is only just about to begin,