[[the images at end are corrupted, need fixing. Text has been tweaked]]
We’ve spent our summers in British Columbia since 2004, and our winters either in Tucson or traveling. We’ve been in Tucson for over 10 years now, and settled into a pattern: Scott drives to Vancouver in early spring and returns to Tucson in late fall, and Kathy flies up for the summer.
(Update: it’s flipped now. Scott will be flying back and forth, and Kathy and her sister Sue will drive up together.)
Once we’re in Vancouver, we try to savor the good weather and the fact that it’s a genuinely great city. And two of our reliable repeats are (1) enjoying the place, and (2) spending time with Blake and Libby, friends from nearby North Vancouver who we met, improbably, in South India.
In 2009, Blake and Libby introduced us to Savary Island. Savary was mapped and named by Captain George Vancouver (yes, that Vancouver) during his scouting expeditions on this coast. It’s small, about five miles long and about one mile wide. It’s also not especially easy to get to, which is part of the charm.
Car on, car off. Repeat.
We got up around 5:30 a.m. and headed for ferry number one (about half an hour away). Then drove to ferry number two. Repeat.
When we arrived in Lund, B.C. (see photo), we hauled out our portion of food and drink for the eight of us. We also get to pack out the garbage later, because island life has its own rules.
We parked the car for the week ($65), with the promise they’d deliver it to the dock when we returned. Then we dragged our stuff down to the water ferry, got it across to Savary, hauled it back up the gangway, waited for a “land taxi” (pickup truck), and did yet another unloading.
Roughly ten hours after leaving home, we arrived. And then we sat down and stared at nothing for a while, which felt productive.
We’ve stayed in this cabin before. It used to be properly rustic: propane for light, refrigeration, and cooking. This year, to everyone’s delight, it had solar panels and battery storage. Hardly rustic at all. Civilization arrived quietly, in the form of charged devices.
Also, since the last time we were here, communications have improved. There’s now cellular coverage… usually. I’m not sure this is an unqualified good thing. I’d been hoping to be unreachable for a while.
It’s a family affair
It’s not just the “senior” Kelleys here. We’ve got three generations: Blake and Libby; their daughter Jennifer and her husband Merlyn; and their two kids.
Kathy is more accustomed to the cheerful chaos. I require a brief adjustment period. But it’s genuinely nice to be around a family doing normal family things.
We’ve known the Kelleys for about 15 years and see them regularly, usually at their house. (Libby is a great cook. This is not a rumor.) No photos of the kids, by request.
Since we brought all this food…
We’re here for a week, and each couple signs up for a couple of meals to feed all eight of us. That includes planning, shopping, hauling, and cooking.
Kathy and I contributed her signature seven-layer dip and a quinoa salad. I made a bean salad that’s a favorite at home, plus shrimp and grits, which is basically a love letter to butter and poor decisions.
Packing food for eight is a challenge, because the general store exists but it’s limited and expensive. We must have brought a couple hundred pounds of supplies once you count cans, bottles, food, and the few pieces of kitchenware we weren’t willing to live without.
And then there’s the alcohol. Which, like the tide, is part of the ecosystem.
The days… are they that different from Vancouver?
In a word: no.
We still read, poke at phones and iPads, cook, and eat. There’s also drinking into the evening, and sometimes the afternoon, depending on how ambitious the day looks.
We’re actually closer to the beach at home in Vancouver than we are here, but we rarely go. Crowds and rules have a way of discouraging casual beach life. On Savary, we can bring snacks and a beer or two and nobody seems concerned. If there are police here, they aren’t running beach audits.
The real difference is the pace. You hear crickets. Deer wander through the yard. People leave bikes on lawns and drop them wherever they happen to stop. Same with beach chairs, kayaks, and general outdoor clutter.
I’m not claiming there’s no crime. I’m just saying I haven’t seen a lock on a bicycle yet. It’s a sharp contrast from city life, and I don’t miss ambulance sirens. The days pass slowly. The week passes fast.
Going home
The trip back is easier, mostly because our food is gone and we’ve swapped it for garbage. We clean the place, pack out everything, and load the trash onto the water taxi along with ourselves.
Back in Lund, the people who parked our car bring it down to meet us at the dock (still $65 for the week). Then we drive south, ferry to ferry, with the added fun of waiting for the next sailing.
We made it onto the second ferry as the second-to-last car. A reservation would have been worth the $10.
Ten days at home to recover and repack, then off on another adventure.
Selected photos. These are actually from several years’ visits.
