Island Hopping Part 1 Stuart Island – Camping, I Don't Think I Hate You Anymore

I’m sitting beside the campfire, smoke and ash drift pass my face. The sun has set, and the sky is a clear deep inky blue so it’s only by the light of the flames that I can check on the progress of my S’more. My marshmallow, roasted to perfection, sits waiting while the chocolate melts on its graham cracker base. I lick the chocolate off my fingers from the last S’more and take a sip of tea.

This little scene is acting itself out in various ways all round this campfire. To my left, several kids inspect the charred remains of their marshmallows while to the right, a couple of dads alternate between swilling beer, inhaling s’mores, and solving the problems of the world. It’s 10pm on Saturday night on Stuart Island and the Baldwin Family Campground and all is well in our world.

I must admit that if all aspects of camping were this enjoyable, I probably wouldn’t object so much to the general prospect of trying to live outdoors for several days in a row. I’ve never been a great camper, but before I had kids, I could at least tolerate it. We would grab a few things, throw the tent in the car, stop at the grocery store and then spend a few days lazing around the lake or wherever before heading back to work or school. Then I had kids and all hell broke loose. I have effectively blocked out most memories of a four-day camping trip spent with other families when Jacob was 8 and Zoe 3. All I can remember is being extremely sleep deprived due to a 5yr old boy to whom I shall refer as Bobby for friendship’s sake, who decided that 4:45am would be the perfect time to wake up each morning. More’s the pity that Bobby and his long-suffering dad’s tent was only a few metres from our own. Mornings went something like this:

Bobby: (forcing a whisper) “Daaaaaaaad”

Bobby’s Dad: “smurgsch”

Bobby: (whining now) “Daaaaaaaad I’m hungry”

Bobby’s Dad: “Bobbygobacktoslee….”

Bobby: “But Daaaaad I’m hungry and I’m uncomfortable”

Bobby’s Dad: (Trying to whisper) “Bobby! I’m SLEEPING!

Me: (In my head) “Yeah, Bobby, we’re all sleeping don’t you know?”

Bobby: (At full volume and starting to cry) “BUT I’M HUNGRY AND I DON’T WANT TO BE IN THE TENT ANYMORE AND I HAVE TO GO PEE AND WAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH WAHHHHHH”

Me: (In my head) “Bobby, none of us want you to be in your tent anymore. I’m thinking Nanaimo actually”

Bobby’s Dad: (yelling through clenched teeth. At 4:45am) “BOBBY JUST BE QUIET AND GO BACK TO SLEEP YOU ARE DISTURBING EVERYONE AND I’M STARTING TO LOSE MY TEMPER”

Me: (In my head) “starting?”

Bobby: “I HATE CAMPING IT’S STUPID AND I’M HUNGRY AND I HATE YOU YOU ARE STUPID AND YOU ARE GOING TO WAKE EVERYONE UP NOT ME AND EVERYONE IS STUPID HERE WHY DO THEY ALL HAVE TO BE SLEEPING STILL I WANT TO GET UP”

Me: (in my head) “Don’t go there, Bobby”

Bobby’s Dad: “FINE! I’LL JUST GET UP THEN AND I’M WARNING YOU I’LL BE GRUMPY ALL DAY”

Me: (in my head) “You don’t even know what grumpy is, Bobby’s Dad. I’ll show you grumpy”.

At this point, the antics of Bobby and his Dad had woken up half the campsite, the half that were under the age of 8 that is, and so began another very long day full of sleep-deprived adults, and cranky kids. Throw into the mix meal preparation for 62 people or however many it was, and a general cacophony of screaming and demands for snacks and toys that had been left behind at home, and it was a nightmare I swore never to repeat.

And so I swore off camping for several years. Friends would suggest a camping trip. “This” I would respond, pointing to myself “Does not camp”. They would roll their eyes but I didn’t care.

Then a couple of years ago, friends conspired against me and planned a joint family camping trip to Stuart Island, which is a lovely little island in the San Juan Islands, only a few miles by boat away from Victoria. Friends owned land there and held an annual camping trip. I was my usual difficult self proclaiming that I would go camping when I was dead and not before. To make matters even less appealing to me, this ‘campground’ was boat access only, and had no bathroom. Nothing. No cabin, no outhouse, just a hole in the ground. And not a very deep hole at that.

Well I’ll save you the details but somehow, I found myself packing camping gear, then I found myself on the boat, and then there I was at the campsite. And I’m here to say that, apart from the hole in the ground, and in spite of myself, I actually had a good time.

And so it is two years later that I find myself here again at the Baldwin family campground eating too many s’mores, meeting interesting people, and actually enjoying being outside, hiking, swimming, and cooking communally. There were a few minor glitches like when the boat hit a rock and severely damaged the motor so that we could no longer use it and had to rely on our 15horse kicker instead. It was a long trip back. And also the fact that Kent managed to fall onto a Douglas Fir branch and embed a piece of it in his leg. Nonce, the token Doctor on site, and I tried to remove the rather large ‘splinter’ that was protruding from his shin, but couldn’t budge it. After feeding Kent several glasses of whiskey, and bandaging it up for the night, we decided we would have to find a clinic the next day in Friday Harbour. $180, a few hours, and a few stitches later, Kent was good to go.

But in spite of these events, there’s something about being outside early in the morning, or sitting around the campfire with a cup of tea, vaguely wondering, but not worrying, where the kids are that is just so relaxing and calming, it almost makes me want to do it again.

I think I’ll wait a year. 

Camp Kitchen

Kent on the post-surgical unit. Note the cup of Fire Whiskey in his hand…

Jacob at any given point except for when he is sleeping (see below)

The trip over when the motor still worked. Note the sleeping Jacob.

Roche Harbour

The Crew

Kent about to provide his opinion on topic x

 

This yacht had an open house and we were COMPLETELY ignored by the salesman. And I was going to write a cheque, too, but the bathroom was too small.

 

Kent sleeping off the effects of his anaesthetic…

Cemetery Island

  The campground from the water. It helps when it is soo beautiful everywhere.

The lovely and hospitable Penelope and Eric, who so kindly have us all to stay on their land.

4th of July festivities on Stuart Island

Boat ride home and two sleeping 8yr olds.

Sky Mall – Where Dogs are too Tired to get up on the Couch by Themselves...

On a recent trip to San Francisco I had the great pleasure of being introduced to a new publication that I cannot believe I have never read before: Sky Mall. It’s one of those freebie magazine that they stuff in the seat pocket in front of you, knowing full well that at some point on the flight, you will reach for it either to a)avoid the person next to you who may or may not be droning on about their cat’s digestive problems, or b) because there is something about being on a plane that turns us all into attention-challenged idiots: I read a book for three seconds, put it down, stare out the window for awhile, then try to read again but realize I have burnt my retinas staring out the window, then can’t read anymore. It’s a sad cycle that I seem bent on repeating throughout the duration of the flight. Occasionally I will attempt to sleep, but this is usually met with about as much success as my annual pre-summer diet.

Anyway – so there I was in my seat, with nothing to do, when I happened to notice Sky Mall in the seat pocket. And so began a very happy hour of reading that caused the flight to pass by so quickly that I was actually a bit upset when we began our approach to YYJ as I was not even close to finishing the magazine. Fortunately I was quickly distracted from my despair by the gathering storm outside my window and ensuing turbulence. I love it when the gulf islands get bigger and then smaller and then bigger in quick succession as the plane appears to drop a few hundred feet in one go, the regain it, then lose it again, and then just stay there. It’s as if the pilot has decided: ‘What the hell, not much point in going back up…"’. I’m pretty sure that flying into a pocket of turbulence and plunging toward the ocean is not how they teach them to land a plane but what do I know.

I do know that I was able to have a moment of clarity through my anxiety that allowed me to quickly stuff Sky Mall in my bag before getting off the plane. And no need to feel any guilt that I was depriving future passengers of pleasure:“Free copy – take it. We’ll replace it!” the magazine joyfully proclaims across the front page.  Well Ok, then! I will! And hey, thanks, Sky Mall!

But back to the actual items available for purchase through this fine establishment. Let’s start with the Head Spa Massager. Wear this and enjoy looking like you have been rummaging through Boba Fett’s old trunk of too-small helmet cast-offs.

Or perhaps you need a Full Head of Hair in 30 seconds? Try new Toppik Hair Building Fibres that allegedly stay on through wind, rain, and sweat. Hmmmmm. Why not just take the pepper grinder and go crazy.

And right below that is an ad for the X6 Hair Laser. Yes except this one is for thinning hair. No no, it is for improving the look of thinning hair. Does this mean it makes thin hair thinner? How could it make it thicker? Who are these people. And besides, it looks like a bomb or something.

For those of you with pets who encourage your short-legged pet to sleep on your bed, but worry about how to get your pet from the floor all the way on to the bed, today is your lucky day. The Pet Ramp and Staircase is at your service. Oh, and it is also soft on paws, just like the great outdoors. Which is where animals are supposed to live, by the way. In case you have forgotten. Which clearly, you have, if you think it is OK to buy a ramp for your cat to get up on your bed. I know I know you LOVE your dog and usually, I love your dog too. I just think this is going a bit too far.

But I’m not done quite yet. Actually, if you are the type of person who might purchase the Pet Ramp and Staircase for the bedroom, but experience angst when pondering how to help your shedding machine up onto the living room furniture, then look no further than page 46 of Sky Mall where you will find the PupSTEP Plus. Yes, this handy item will help your cat or dog or coatimundi up onto the couch for a ‘well-deserved nap’ after a hard night on your bed.

When you have finished contemplating what humankind has come to, consider investing in a little something to improve your status in the neighbourhood: the “Bigfoot, the Garden Yeti” statue. Now, I don't know about you, but personally I’m hung up on a few details here. First of all, Sky Mall claims this statue has been “hand-painted for startling realism” but then reveals that it is only 2ft tall. A 2ft tall Bigfoot? Now how realistic is that. You may as well give it a clown nose if it’s only going to be 2ft tall. Sounds more like a garden gnome gone wrong to me. Somewhere in a factory in China, someone is putting the finishing touches on yet another “Bigfoot, the Garden Yeti” statue and wondering what the hell is wrong with us over here in the West.

But I digress. I am also questioning the authenticity of this item. I mean, really, can I trust someone who refers to Bigfoot as a “Garden Yeti” to have the details right when they have clearly gotten their Large Mythical Creatures mixed up? Hey, Sky Mall, Yetis are from the Himalayas and Bigfoot is from the Pacific Northwest. Duh.

OK Let’s move on to my favourite item in the Sky Mall catalogue: the “Zombie of Montclaire Moors” statue. Unlike our friend the Garden Yeti, this baby is life-sized. But it gets better! Sky Mall actually suggests that this would be a good addition to your family room, garden plot, or office. I can see how that one would play out:

Me: “time for bed honey”

Zoe: “DON’T LEAVE ME ALONE MUMMY AAAGHHHHHHHHHHHH PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME ALONE THE ZOMBIE IS GOING TO CLAW ITS WAY UPSTAIRS AND GET MEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”

Me: “now honey we’ve been through this already – the Zombie is not a REAL zombie, just a statue captured in meticulous detail in quality designer resin”

Zoe: “PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME ALONE IN HERE MUMMA WAHHHHH WAHHHHHHHHHH WAHHHHh…”

ME: “Hello, Sky Mall?”

And again, the details, SkyMall – it’s all in the details so sit up and get a pen cuz a) Zombies don’t plead for assistance and b) they can’t breathe. I’m feeling my confidence in Sky Mall slip away with this obvious disregard for facts. First the Garden Yeti, and now this. Whatever, Sky Mall, Whatever. As partial as I am to Zombies, I think I’ll give this one a miss.

Now I’m sure some of you would have just blipped right over the statuary section but I feel sure you would not have missed this next item. 

 

Ok Here’s the thing. PUT THAT AWAY. And put away those pyjamas too. Can you imagine actually using this? “Excuse me while I just set this bouncy castle on my fold-down tray…sorry did I elbow you?” And how, I ask you, will your face look after being jammed up against this puppy for any length of time. You may have gotten a few minutes sleep, but you will appear to have suffered a stroke for some hours post-flight. Whatever people, whatever.

This last item leaves me speechless. Now I like cats, and have had several as pets. But as far as I’m concerned, IT’S A CAT. IT DOESN’T USE THE TOILET.  I don’t care if you live in an apartment. If I visit someone at their place, use the bathroom and discover that the CAT ALSO USES THE SAME TOILET I’m gonna FREAK. That’s GROSS! I don’t care if cats are “clean” or whatever, they still lick their own bums. NO CATS ON THE TOILET.

Let’s look at that again:

I’d challenge Litter Kwitter’s claim that they have actually had the success they claim with this product. Cats don’t typically like to be told what to do. And I’d actually like to watch someone try to train a cat to use the toilet:

Owner Irene: “Come on, Fluffy, up on the toilet with you…Up you go..that’s it good Fluffy, go…now, Fluffy, no biting!”

Fluffy: (In her head) “Like I’m going to get up on that thing. Just try that again and I’m gonna stick you with my claws”

Owner Irene: “Good Fluffy, Come on let’s try again…Up on the toi…Ouch! Oh I’m sure you didn’t mean that did you, Fluffy…”

Fluffy: (In her head) “Yes I meant it and I’m not ‘getting on the toilet’, I told you. Catnip flavoured toilet paper or otherwise.”

Owner Irene: “Fluffy just get on the toilet and give it a try, please? How about a treat?”

Fluffy: “Yeah how about you treat me like a cat and let me out of this stupid bathroom"

Owner Irene “I paid $60 for this stupid video so just do like the man says and get on the toilet”

Fluffy: “If you keep trying to get me to get on the goddamn toilet, I’m gonna scratch you a new one”

Owner Irene: “I don’t know, Bill, She’s got that same look in her eyes when you tried to get her to wear that bell…do you remember that, Bill? When we had to go to cancel our holiday? I think I’m just going to leave it. It’s not worth it…”

Fluffy: “You’re so right it’s not worth it, Irene. Now leave me alone”

So many questions, I have so many questions. Like, WTF? for one.

Well that brings my rant to an end. I could have mentioned so many items. Like the underwater pogo stick (“perform a variety of waterborne stunts!”), or the bug vacuum, or the ceramic pet fountain, the telekinetic obstacle course, the indoor dog restroom (for “times of harsh weather”). But I have to stop somewhere. For now. In the meantime, I can’t wait for my next flight and the next issue of SkyMall.

And that’s the Album Cover Right There…

Day 3 was our last full day in San Francisco and we had planned to spend it at a winery out in the Valley of the Moon just outside Sonoma. But first we needed breakfast and so made our customary trip to our cafe for, yes that’s right, granola!

That’s me and my Granola!

Did I mention how good the yogurt is? It is soo good that I was determined to find out exactly what kind of yogurt it was so that I could buy the dairy and have it shipped back to Victoria, quit my job, and become a yogurt-master or whatever they are. So I asked the staff at the cafe what it was:

Me (to the Latino-looking busboy – granted, I should have known better) “Yes I’m just wondering exactly what kind this is (pointing to the yogurt). It’s reeeealllly delicious”

Busboy: “que?”

Me (more loudly and, perhaps stupidly): “The yogurt…what is it?”

Busboy: “one meeenet”

Busboy #2: “Whaddidyouwannaknow”

Me (too quietly, apparently): “I was just wondering about the granola and what kind of yogurt you used…”

Busboy #2 “What?..It’s yogurt. YOGURT.”

Me: “Yes I realize that, I was wondering if it is was any special particular kind of yogurt…it’s really…well, I just really enjoy it and…”

Busboy #2: “lemmeaskthechefjustasec”

Me: “oh it’s Ok I don’t want to both…Oh Hi”

Chef: “You had a question about the yogurt”

Me: “I just wondered what kind it was but really I didn’t mean to cause such a fuss…”

Chef: “It’s Greek.”

Me: “Greek? Oh, Ok thanks…Like Balkan style?”

Chef: “nope – Greek Style”

Me (never having heard of Greek yogurt before): “Great!! Thanks!”

Chef: “No problem…”

The girlfriends were rolling their eyes at this one, let me tell you. “Anything else you need to know, Jane?” said Pam.

The other good thing about the walk to the cafe for breakfast, other than the breakfast, is the walk through the neighbourhood. San Francisco must have the most beautiful eclectic architecture anywhere. The Victorian style architecture is unique in that the houses are almost all attached, and no one is the same as the next. This creates a charming, intriguing, streetscape that had us peering over fences and gazing up at window boxes and balconies.

an unexpected tire-elephant…

 

This is the best hardware store I’ve been to, ever!

Anyway – We made our leisurely  way back to the apartment, got ourselves ready and headed off toward the Golden Gate Bridge en route to Sonoma.

Have I mentioned the hills in San Francisco? Have I mentioned that I don't really care much for a particular street known as Divisadero? Or as I came to call it, ‘Divisa-freakin-dero’? Those of you who know me will recall that I am not good with heights. The whole way up I was white-knuckled, holding my breath, and issuing curt statements through clenched teeth: “everyone lean forward” or (to the car in front of me) “get the hell out of my way” or “if I have to stop on this ridge I’m going to fucking kill someone” or “ where the fuck is the top of this goddamned hill”. There was brief moment of respite at the top and then it’s down the other side. Instead of feeling like the car is going to flip over backward and slide all the way down upside down on the roof, it then feels like it might tip over forwards and crash down the hill end over end. Great.

We made it anyway although I think my blood pressure is still high from this episode.

We hit the Golden Gate in high spirits. The presence of a tour bus beside us full of tourists snapping pics of Alcatraz somehow added to the whole thing in a hilarious way. We, of course, with our white liberal sensibilities, were far beyond taking pictures of stupid tourist traps. Right.We just took pictures of the tourists taking pictures. So ironic of us. It reminded me of a time when Mel and I were in Disneyland when we were 19 or 20 and I got almost all the way through a 36 roll of film taking pictures on the Jungle Cruise before coming to the realization that perhaps I didn’t really need all these pictures of plastic elephants.

It’s an easy drive to Sonoma and it was made even better by the fact that the temperature was rising steadily so that by the time we arrived, it was 25 or 26 Celsius. Tough day in paradise, my friends, a tough day but we were happy to take one for the team. Someone has to do it after all…

Our plan was to make a brief stop in Sonoma, do a bit of shopping, and then head out to a winery or two for some tasting etc. Well, suffice to say the shopping in Sonoma is excellent. Add to this a Cinco de Mayo festival going on in the square, the divine smell of orange blossom, and one beautiful hotel courtyard serving up mojitos and whatever else you want and well, we didn’t actually make it very far. After we had been in said courtyard, with its spreading fig tree, billowing curtains, and handsome waiters, for about 30 minutes, I declared that it was perhaps, the best winery I had ever been to. Everyone agreed and we all ordered another round.

Cinco de Mayo in the Square- mmmmmmm

This is us on our way into Fleurtique – one of my favourite stores ever and home to the Slipper Boot, which I still wish Sandy had bought for herself. Tow days before, she had declared the world void of a certain product that it sorely needed, known as the ‘Slipper Boot”. Plans were made to invent such an item, achieving global domination in the process, or at the very least, comfortable cosy feet in which to laze around the house. So imagine our surprise when we came across just such an item in Fleurtique:

There is only one solution, and that is to return to Sonoma so that we can all get a pair.

We eventually made it around the square to this little piece of Heaven.

The awesome Pam in one of her awesome dresses, deciding which beer to order…

Well… if I must.

We reluctantly wrapped things up and headed back to San Francisco, laden down with shopping, food, you name it, including a cooking pot that Mel bought at a very cool kitchen shop. More on that later.

Dinner that night was one of those memorable affairs comprised of cheese, bread, olives, fruit, more cheese, crackers, chocolate, pink lemonade, and generous lashings of wine to wash it all down.

I really think I was meant to eat like this all the time.

I will admit here that I, teetotaller that I am, actually had a glass of wine, up on the roof top deck, because you would have to be out of your mind not to.

We spent a very enjoyable evening considering all manner of things that needed considering, coming to no conclusions, and solving no problems, just enjoying the excellent company and enjoying the view.

 

Pam and I lingered a little longer and just about peed ourselves taking terrible pictures and declaring after each one: “Well that’s the album cover right there!”

I’d be hard pressed to choose an actual album cover for this trip , but I think this might be it: four big smiles.

Stay tuned for the final day which will include my musings on Sky Mall and what not to say in the airport…

Cheers!