South for the winter
Oct. 2nd, 2002 10:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
deathpixiePrince Rupert: 27/09/2002.
Prince Rupert in the early morning. We bid farewell to Patrick (he was going down to Bela Bela, about half-way down the coast), and collected the car. The hostel was closed, so we went to Cowpaccino’s again for brekkie. More o ld cycling magazines. *grins* After checking in, the day was spent tidying up and typing this (and so not finishing, seeing how this is now five days later and I’m at Lise’s house in Vancouver). I got to commune with my countrymen – there were three Aussi e guys leaving the hostel that day, two from Melbourne and one from Sydney. And we solved the mystery of my accent – it’s not me that has the funny Aussie accent, it’s the rest of you lot. *grins* Either that or I’m in touch with my Inner Bloke, because I was bloking away with the best of them.
There was also a Dane couple who were looking for a car to buy, and Gerg, being the Native Guide, went out with the guy to look at cars for a while. No luck, but I think they’re going to try again in Calgary – the y’re doing the reverse of the trip we’ve already done. I hit the hay early that night, since we were getting up at five-thirty to be at the ferry terminal by six for the seven-thirty service.
Inner Passage: 28/09/2002.
Good ol’ internal alarm. I woke up at one-thirty, four-thirty, and then five. I lay there for a few minutes, then got up as quietly as I could (we were in the dorm) and had a shower, since that’s the only way I can actually function that early in the morning. I’d already packed (and was greatly surprised to see Gerg had packed the night before without actually waking me – brownie points for the earplugs, even if they don’t work on snoring), so I shook Gerg’s foot a few times until he moved enough to satisfy me he was alive and then headed downstairs. No time for brekkie – we still had to lug stuff downstairs – and then off to the ferry terminal. We didn’t have to wait that long, and we had granola bars and apples and cereal (which Gerg eats like potato chips) sitting in the queue.
The Inner Passage trip was amazing. It’s basically a ferry down the coast, threading its way through the various islands, through some of the most beautiful parts of British Columbia. Hard to describe in detail – again, the pictures will do that job far better. And we saw whales, or at least their tails, and finally a bear! It was on the shore, a little black fuzzy blob, but a bear all the same. It was funny – the captain announced over the PA: "If you look to starboard, you will see a black bear near the river…" and everyone rushed to that side – I was waiting for the ferry to list to one side with all the weight!
In all, the ferry was a really good way to get down the coast. A lot quicker – if you look at a map, there’s not a lot of roads down that part of the Canadian coast, and you have to backtrack as far as Prince George – and less stressful. And cheaper, considering fuel prices. We left not long after 7:30, and got into Port Hardy around 10:00pm. Patrick had told us about a cheap-ish camp ground not far from the ferry terminal, and we joined a RV convoy there, pitching our tent quite successfully by the parking lights of the car.
Vancouver Island: 29/09/2002.
Gerg communed with the wildlife, making friends with a rather cheeky (and noisy) bird who decided the tent was worth investigation whilst I was in the shower. Brekkie was instant oatmeal – porridge if you’re Aussie or a Brit. And just what kind of size person are those servings intended for anyway? Once the car was packed again, we took off down the road south, aiming for Victoria and the HI hostel. Along the way, we read the signs and took a nifty little detour onto some forestry roads to the Little Huson Caves. After a nifty walk down, we found ourselves at a very pretty river that had carved its way through the rock. There was a group of teenagers abseiling down in front of the cave mouth, and then using ascenders to get back up, which looked like a lot of fun. Gerg, in his quest for the perfect photo, managed to maroon himself on a rock in the middle of the river, and got his feet a bit wet getting back – I rescued the digital camera off him first, convinced he was going to end up arse over in the water. It was all very nice, and if the weather had been a little warmer, I might ha ve been tempted to swim. The water was lovely. And the way it swirled around, it was all sparkly and bubbly, just like champagne.
We took the back roads back to the highway (more rally driving, Gerg was very happy), and took another detour to a camp grou nd called Lake Schoen for lunch. Lunch is generally soup and sandwiches, and the setting was perfect – mountains soaring over the clear blue lake. Having eaten and admired the scenery, we got back into the car and continued south. We had a choice – mounta ins or coast, and I chose coast. Possibly not the best decision, as it did take longer, but still very nice. At some stage during the afternoon, Gerg satisfied his Tim Horton’s craving (a coffee and doughnut chain indigenous to Canada), and we switched drivers because he was tired. Lots of gear practice to get out of the town we were in whose name escapes me, and I drove maybe a couple of hours until it got dark and started raining pretty heavily.
It was dark, around nine-ish when we got to Victoria. I think I’m going to have to do a return visit to Vancouver Island, to see what I’ve missed during the dark bits. And the fact we zipped through pretty quickly, mainly because we wanted to get off the road for a while. Notwithstanding we’d spent four days i n the Queen Charlottes. Either my navigation or Gerg’s direction-taking is improving, or perhaps both, or maybe the maps are getting better, because we found the HI hostel with no difficulties at all. Dinner was souped-up Kraft Dinner, and then I pretty m uch crashed. The past few days had been wearing on me – I was getting tireder and tireder.
Victoria: 30/09/2002.
Morning was devoted to exploring Victoria. I rang the ferry terminal and checked out the timetables and fares for Vancouver, and figured we could catch the afternoon ferry. We decided on the museum, as the Guide had given it a good write up and it had been a while between museums, at least for me. The Royal British Columbia Museum is only a couple of floors, but has a great First Peoples exh ibit, as well as a good one on BC geography and ecology. There was also a special exhibit on the Royal Family, which amused me no end, being the good little republican that I am. I got snagged by a survey taker as we were finishing up, so Mum, Dad, if you get a call from Canada about whether one Joanne Howard took a survey on the BC museum, say yes. *grins*
In the course of our wanderings, we saw the wharf and the Legislature Building, and some really lovely buildings. Gerg wanted to see Antique Row, and showed me the old $20 bill with the picture of Lake Morraine, which we’d seen in the Rockies. Then we had to hustle ourselves to the ferry, which we caught with no difficulty. It was much more spiffy than the Queen of Prince Rupert (the ferry to the Char lottes), and the Queen of the North (the Inside Passage ferry), and even had some little corrals with power points for your computer (with a nifty little warning about the power source being unreliable and to use at your own risk). So the scenery was igno red largely for the sake of the journal entry (the sacrifices I make for you people *grins*). Then, when we were heading back down to the car, Fate intervened and Gerg bumped into a friend of his, Stacey, who is living in Vancouver and works Mondays, Wedn esdays and Thursdays on the island. Gerg had forgotten to contact her, and meeting her was sheer coincidence: any other time it wouldn’t have happened. We walked down to the cars together, and arranged to have dinner with her and her husband the following night. Having called Lise for directions from the bowels of the ferry and managed to find our way to the boondocks where she lives, we did what all ficcers do and talked into the night before crashing. I even had some brief AIM time, technically to see i f Mel was around (I miss Mel, like sleep), but instead catching up with Samy and Trisha and Dex and very briefly Falstaff, which was nice. And I slept on the couch, which was blissfully quiet.
›h
Prince Rupert in the early morning. We bid farewell to Patrick (he was going down to Bela Bela, about half-way down the coast), and collected the car. The hostel was closed, so we went to Cowpaccino’s again for brekkie. More o ld cycling magazines. *grins* After checking in, the day was spent tidying up and typing this (and so not finishing, seeing how this is now five days later and I’m at Lise’s house in Vancouver). I got to commune with my countrymen – there were three Aussi e guys leaving the hostel that day, two from Melbourne and one from Sydney. And we solved the mystery of my accent – it’s not me that has the funny Aussie accent, it’s the rest of you lot. *grins* Either that or I’m in touch with my Inner Bloke, because I was bloking away with the best of them.
There was also a Dane couple who were looking for a car to buy, and Gerg, being the Native Guide, went out with the guy to look at cars for a while. No luck, but I think they’re going to try again in Calgary – the y’re doing the reverse of the trip we’ve already done. I hit the hay early that night, since we were getting up at five-thirty to be at the ferry terminal by six for the seven-thirty service.
Inner Passage: 28/09/2002.
Good ol’ internal alarm. I woke up at one-thirty, four-thirty, and then five. I lay there for a few minutes, then got up as quietly as I could (we were in the dorm) and had a shower, since that’s the only way I can actually function that early in the morning. I’d already packed (and was greatly surprised to see Gerg had packed the night before without actually waking me – brownie points for the earplugs, even if they don’t work on snoring), so I shook Gerg’s foot a few times until he moved enough to satisfy me he was alive and then headed downstairs. No time for brekkie – we still had to lug stuff downstairs – and then off to the ferry terminal. We didn’t have to wait that long, and we had granola bars and apples and cereal (which Gerg eats like potato chips) sitting in the queue.
The Inner Passage trip was amazing. It’s basically a ferry down the coast, threading its way through the various islands, through some of the most beautiful parts of British Columbia. Hard to describe in detail – again, the pictures will do that job far better. And we saw whales, or at least their tails, and finally a bear! It was on the shore, a little black fuzzy blob, but a bear all the same. It was funny – the captain announced over the PA: "If you look to starboard, you will see a black bear near the river…" and everyone rushed to that side – I was waiting for the ferry to list to one side with all the weight!
In all, the ferry was a really good way to get down the coast. A lot quicker – if you look at a map, there’s not a lot of roads down that part of the Canadian coast, and you have to backtrack as far as Prince George – and less stressful. And cheaper, considering fuel prices. We left not long after 7:30, and got into Port Hardy around 10:00pm. Patrick had told us about a cheap-ish camp ground not far from the ferry terminal, and we joined a RV convoy there, pitching our tent quite successfully by the parking lights of the car.
Vancouver Island: 29/09/2002.
Gerg communed with the wildlife, making friends with a rather cheeky (and noisy) bird who decided the tent was worth investigation whilst I was in the shower. Brekkie was instant oatmeal – porridge if you’re Aussie or a Brit. And just what kind of size person are those servings intended for anyway? Once the car was packed again, we took off down the road south, aiming for Victoria and the HI hostel. Along the way, we read the signs and took a nifty little detour onto some forestry roads to the Little Huson Caves. After a nifty walk down, we found ourselves at a very pretty river that had carved its way through the rock. There was a group of teenagers abseiling down in front of the cave mouth, and then using ascenders to get back up, which looked like a lot of fun. Gerg, in his quest for the perfect photo, managed to maroon himself on a rock in the middle of the river, and got his feet a bit wet getting back – I rescued the digital camera off him first, convinced he was going to end up arse over in the water. It was all very nice, and if the weather had been a little warmer, I might ha ve been tempted to swim. The water was lovely. And the way it swirled around, it was all sparkly and bubbly, just like champagne.
We took the back roads back to the highway (more rally driving, Gerg was very happy), and took another detour to a camp grou nd called Lake Schoen for lunch. Lunch is generally soup and sandwiches, and the setting was perfect – mountains soaring over the clear blue lake. Having eaten and admired the scenery, we got back into the car and continued south. We had a choice – mounta ins or coast, and I chose coast. Possibly not the best decision, as it did take longer, but still very nice. At some stage during the afternoon, Gerg satisfied his Tim Horton’s craving (a coffee and doughnut chain indigenous to Canada), and we switched drivers because he was tired. Lots of gear practice to get out of the town we were in whose name escapes me, and I drove maybe a couple of hours until it got dark and started raining pretty heavily.
It was dark, around nine-ish when we got to Victoria. I think I’m going to have to do a return visit to Vancouver Island, to see what I’ve missed during the dark bits. And the fact we zipped through pretty quickly, mainly because we wanted to get off the road for a while. Notwithstanding we’d spent four days i n the Queen Charlottes. Either my navigation or Gerg’s direction-taking is improving, or perhaps both, or maybe the maps are getting better, because we found the HI hostel with no difficulties at all. Dinner was souped-up Kraft Dinner, and then I pretty m uch crashed. The past few days had been wearing on me – I was getting tireder and tireder.
Victoria: 30/09/2002.
Morning was devoted to exploring Victoria. I rang the ferry terminal and checked out the timetables and fares for Vancouver, and figured we could catch the afternoon ferry. We decided on the museum, as the Guide had given it a good write up and it had been a while between museums, at least for me. The Royal British Columbia Museum is only a couple of floors, but has a great First Peoples exh ibit, as well as a good one on BC geography and ecology. There was also a special exhibit on the Royal Family, which amused me no end, being the good little republican that I am. I got snagged by a survey taker as we were finishing up, so Mum, Dad, if you get a call from Canada about whether one Joanne Howard took a survey on the BC museum, say yes. *grins*
In the course of our wanderings, we saw the wharf and the Legislature Building, and some really lovely buildings. Gerg wanted to see Antique Row, and showed me the old $20 bill with the picture of Lake Morraine, which we’d seen in the Rockies. Then we had to hustle ourselves to the ferry, which we caught with no difficulty. It was much more spiffy than the Queen of Prince Rupert (the ferry to the Char lottes), and the Queen of the North (the Inside Passage ferry), and even had some little corrals with power points for your computer (with a nifty little warning about the power source being unreliable and to use at your own risk). So the scenery was igno red largely for the sake of the journal entry (the sacrifices I make for you people *grins*). Then, when we were heading back down to the car, Fate intervened and Gerg bumped into a friend of his, Stacey, who is living in Vancouver and works Mondays, Wedn esdays and Thursdays on the island. Gerg had forgotten to contact her, and meeting her was sheer coincidence: any other time it wouldn’t have happened. We walked down to the cars together, and arranged to have dinner with her and her husband the following night. Having called Lise for directions from the bowels of the ferry and managed to find our way to the boondocks where she lives, we did what all ficcers do and talked into the night before crashing. I even had some brief AIM time, technically to see i f Mel was around (I miss Mel, like sleep), but instead catching up with Samy and Trisha and Dex and very briefly Falstaff, which was nice. And I slept on the couch, which was blissfully quiet.
›h
