Adventures on Vancouver Island.

At 4:55 am, a few minutes before the alarm is set to blare, I wake up, check the time, and get out of bed.  Today we’re going on a float plane to Victoria Harbour.  And I remember, I’m cancer free.  Wow.  I can hardly stand it.

50 minutes on the recumbent bike and it’s time to wake Mike up.  At 6:30, we’re packed and in the Honda, driving down to Lake Union.  Snack has been a pest all morning, taking advantage of Rigley’s absence.  Merow, merow, merow at the top of her lungs.  Throwing herself on the floor in front of us as we walk and rolling around, smacking us with her claws.   Merow.  Merow.  She wants something, but we have no idea what it is.  She’s got food, water, pettings; everything.  She just wants to be a pest.  So be it.

The winds are up and it’s raining.  The weather report has the winds coming in from the North, specifically, across the Straits of Juan de

Fuca, where our plane is scheduled to fly in a few hours.  Of course, we’re delayed about an hour.  A slow walk to Starbuck’s and back for a short wait for word on our flight.  About 40 minutes after our scheduled departure time, we’re boarding the plane.  Fred, our pilot, says casually, “It’s going to be bumpy.  The barf sacks are in the back of the seat in front of you.”  The guy giving us the safety briefing keeps it short, sweet and to the point.  It’s the no nonsense approach to flying.  ”Survival equipment is in the back in the yellow bins.  Life vests are under your feet.  There are four exits.  Barf bag is in the seat in front of you.  It’s going to be bumpy.”   By this time, I’m kicking myself for wearing boots; if the plane goes down in the ocean, I won’t be able to kick off my shoes.  And I can’t remember how much fabric one needs to slow down your free-fall.  I should have paid more attention when I read The Davinci Code.

Take-off about knocks me out.  The city is so close and coming at you through the window with such speed and clarity.  And Frank Gerry’s building, the Experience Music Project, looks amazing from the sky.    But it’s a bumpy flight as we make our way across the San Juans and into Victoria Harbour.  The sea is stunning.  The colors beautiful greens and blues.  Kelp bundles float on waves and here and there lost tree-trucks drift aimlessly in groups of three or four or five.  I’m breathing yoga breath the whole time, trying not to think about crashing.  The wind is pushing the little deHavalind around and we ‘drop’ every so often as we move across the open water to Vancouver Island.   Some passengers were obviously frequent flyers; one had her laptop open, another was sleeping.  Mike was sitting up straight, smiling and looking around.  I had my eyes closed, and my hands, in black leather gloves to fight the cold, holding hard to the seat in front of me.   When I did open my eyes (counting breaths), the scene was magnificent.  The Olympics, Hood Canal Bridge, Whidbey Island and tankers, fishing trawlers and Coast Guard Cutters pushing through the waves.

Landing in Victoria Harbour was really cool.  The wind had died down so the plane wasn’t getting pushed around so much.  A quick circle around the city, then the engines cut and we were a boat, chugging into port.   Sometimes I like adventures much better when they’re over.  Tomorrow we’ll do it again and I hope the weather is a little easier on us.

After landing, we pick up the rental car (adventure free) and take off north to Butchart Gardens.  I hate to say it, since I’ll be

back there in a few weeks, but it was disappointing.  The grounds are lovely and the overall impression is fabulous.  But their marketing is way over-the-top for those of us who have amazing gardens in our own cities.   What I found most fascinating were the trees and the different colors and textures in the garden during late fall. In fairness, the flowers weren’t in bloom, the roses cut back to three or four canes, and most of the leaves had already fallen.  At this time of year, the garden presents quietude and wonder rather than amazing colors and showy blooms.

Mike pushed me up the walkways and we snuck through the throughways marked for wheelchairs as we explored the gardens.  On flat places I would get out and wander the area, though in the Japanese Garden, we were misdirected and I walked down the winding path following a chatty stream to the bottom of the grotto.  It was chilly in the grotto.  The Japanese stone lanterns and red bridges added human elements to the otherwise ethereal greenness of this part of the garden.

We found the wheelchair access to the Japanese Garden after we had finished wandering in it.  Oh well.  Something new to get used to!   We didn’t really like the Mediterranean Garden, but the lawn sweeping down to the pond with Swan Boats looked like a great place to run the dogs.  We took a swing through the gift store (how could you not!) and found mostly weird ceramic mugs, overly stylized floral thingies and nothing much of interest outside the jewelry cases.   Buying nothing, we wandered back to the van, took out the maps and headed for the secondary roads that would bring us across this narrow part of the island and over to Sooke Harbour.

Well, that was an adventure of 2 mile long dead-end roads, one-lane thoroughfares with road work crews and fast driving trucks. Up and through the Highlands and back into the rain forest.  The Sitka Spruce and Giant Red Western Cedars are some of the tallest in the world.   The air smells like the Olympic National Forest and it feels like home as we wander through this part of the Pacific Temperate Rain Forest.  The Pacific Temperate Rain Forests make up the largest temperate rain forest eco-region in the world.  Ranging from Kodiak Island in Alaska along the west coast down to northern California, this eco-region is lush and full of mushrooms, moss, ferns, Western Hemlock, conifers, shrubs, Coast Redwoods, Coast Douglas Fir and Shore Pines.  Mostly, though, you’ll find rain and lots of it.  Where this part of the forest runs down to the coast line, there we found Sooke Harbour, and our home for the weekend.

A few wrong turns lets us explore places we hadn’t intended to see, like Highway 1 North, but we get here in plenty of time for our 8:00 pm seating.  Because in spite of everything else we have done and could do while here, this weekend is all about FOOD!  Sooke Harbour House, was founded 30 years ago by a French woman who had a vision to serve great food from local sources.  Frederique and Sinclair Philip started with just 5 guest rooms and have turned this into a world class destination for food and quiet getaways.  I met her today as I was prepping food in the kitchen, but I’m telling this out of turn.

Alright.  I’ll get back to it.

Mike has wanted to come here for at least a decade, probably more like the entire time we’ve been married.   Frederique, along with Alice Waters of Chez Panisse fame, and a few others started creating world-class restaurants using only local and organic products.  This was 30 years ago and the choices for hand-crafted cheeses, organic greens and wild mushrooms harvested in the near-by forests were minimal and requests often received strange looks.  Buying from local farmers was crazy when it was so much easier to order for Sysco.  Now cheeses, vegetables, poultry, beef and eggs are all available from small local and organic farmers and ranchers.  Fantastic artisan bread is made here from locally grown Red Fife Wheat, a grain that fed Canada for nearly half a century.

The Inn is right on the beach.  We’ve seen seals, otters, Great Blue Herons, Bald Eagles, kingfishers, American Coots, Buffle Head ducks,  and of course, gulls.  The Inn looks across the Salish Sea to the Olympic Mountains where the snow has already begun to creep down the ridges.   From this side, the mountains look less familiar and we’re not sure if we can find Hurricane Ridge.

The rooms here are incredible.  Heated floors save energy and are deliciously cozy.  All the rooms offer heated tubs –ours is on the deck, plus balconies or patios, fireplaces and little extras like warm cookies, Port, feather beds and stunning views.  Room 25, named the Thunderbird Room, has two large Eagle masks, each carved by different First People’s artists.  Smaller masks and art complete the space, but don’t compete with what is outside our windows.

And the view is fabulous.  Wiffen Spit is just to the left of us and below, when the tide is out, we have tide pools that draw herons and otters.  Also to the left, across Sooke Bay the rain forrest runs right to the sea.   We don’t want to leave the room.  Wrapped in fleece blankets, snug before the fire and watching the sun set across from us, we’re content with cookies and port (okay, just a sip for me and no cookie, but I can dream!) and our books.   Except then we’d miss dinner.  So by Friday night, after 12 hours of travel, exploration, settling in and relaxing, we’ve arrived at the point of our trip:  FOOD ADVENTURE.

It’s now 7:38 pm and we have 7:45 pm reservations for dinner tonight.  7-courses, chef-selected.  So I have to run.    Part two to come.