Two celebrations: wedding photos from 2012

Here are the links to a few photos from our wedding(s) last fall. As I'm putting together a photo-book, I figured now would be a nice to time to share them with anyone who hasn't had a chance to check them out.

Mexico:
https://plus.google.com/photos/117416588595023262960/albums/5810477013549763409


Vancouver:
https://plus.google.com/photos/117416588595023262960/albums/5844978846112367281

Do you Gamelan? Adventures in Balinese music

I thought perhaps we would stop the blog altogether when we ended our year off...but have since realized that we have ongoing entertaining random adventures on a regular basis. So, I am starting to write some of them down, for my own amusement (and posterity, of course).
 

Well...in the interest of becoming more proficient and knowledgeable about my new job in arts and culture (focusing on dance), I bought John and I tickets to a dance event that one of our clients puts on. I thought we started out nicely with the Flamenco show a few weeks ago, and that a little music and dance show from Bali (called a Gamelan) would be another interesting, multicultural event. John was not as convinced, but was a good sport and said he would come with me.

The theatre was quite nice - it's underground at the SFU/Woodward's building in the downtown eastside, but has all sorts of cool design features and apparently good acoustics. We arrived to an almost packed-house of a whole range of people, from students to the older CBC-types, and even a few Indonesians. We took the elevator with a hippie-hipster sort of couple who asked us if we were stoked about "Gamelan-ing", and did a little happy dance. This seemed like it would be a fun, interactive show!

So after some introductions, pleas for money, and an address by the Consular General from Indonesia, the show started.

Picture twenty university students and one aging ashram-dwelling professor, 95% of them white, dressed up in red skirts and small turbans with fans on them, coming on stage and sitting on the floor in front of a variety of metal instruments (gongs, drums, cymbals, xylophones, and what look to be the metal lids off of cooking pots). Sort of multicultural. Sort of entertaining. Until they started to play.

In all seriousness, I have never heard anything that dissonant, confusing, or downright aggravating, and I've listened to some bad music. It was like a parking lot full of car alarms all set to different tones. Except way higher pitched.

So that went on for 35 minutes. No breaks, no change in songs, just the one long metallic hell. The crowd went crazy! Pretty much everyone there LOVED it. I looked around for evidence of earplugs, some sort of personal auto-tuning machines, or acid blotters, but nope, they heard the same thing we did. Part of the mystery of the music was solved by the composer (who was Balinese), when he got up and explained how they created the music...apparently they make it out of tune on purpose, and there is actually no regular time signature. That didn't make it any more pleasant.

We were then treated to another 30 minutes of the same music, accompanied by 4 women dancers who were supposed to be imitating various tropical bird gestures. John called it a diabolical coucou clock from Asia.

We left at the intermission. And have been a little traumatised since.

Sadly, I'm not sure that I'll be able to convince John to accompany me to the naked Japanese tragic dance shows I have planned next.

More pictures of Desolation Sound sailing trip

CLICK HERE for more pictures from Desolation Sound

Is This Desolation, Really? From Galley Bay to Cortes Island

 Our first night in Desolation Sound Marine Park was spent anchored in Galley Bay. This was a ‘hidden gem’ pointed out to us by other sailors, meant to cut the long trip from Powell River to Prideaux Haven into two days. It was a lovely little cove, although we could see several cabins from our anchorage.

We had a surprise waiting for us the next morning. As Kathleen was doing the dishes, she mentioned that we seemed to be running out of water. Impossible, we thought, we just filled it up…not realizing that there had been a kink in the hose leading to the tank. If there is one thing that you can’t function without on a boat, it’s fresh water and we were told that many things were not readily available in Desolation Sound, including fuel, produce and fresh water.

After a few stressful moments, we remembered that we were not, in fact, that desolate. We all had excellent 3G access through our iPhones, and were able to search out the nearest marina that had a fresh water supply. We pulled our anchor and enjoyed a short 2-hour sail to Refuge Cove. We tied up, filled our tanks with fresh water, and popped into the the little general store. We came out with herb Boursin cheese, gourmet crackers and Magnum ice cream bars. Desolation, indeed!

From Refuge Cove, we headed into Prideaux Haven. Prideaux Haven is one of the primary destinations for boaters in Deso, so even after we studied the detailed charts and it looked a little tricky, we figured it would be easy to see. Not so! We nearly passed the entrance, even though it was a bright sunny day and we were meandering at quite a leisurely pace. Once we passed through the first narrow entrance, we knew we could spend weeks just anchored in this one tiny area. It is one of the most gorgeous places I have ever seen: it is so sheltered that the wind barely reaches you and the water is glassy. Anywhere you looked, there were views of snow-capped mountain ranges, treed hills, and beautiful rock formations. The water was clear and full of moon jellyfish. We stayed for several days.

We left Prideaux Haven on a drizzly morning, headed to Squirrel Cove on Cortes Island, via a side-trip to see the waterfall at Teakerne Arm. It was OK, but certainly oversold as a picturesque destination. We arrived in Squirrel Cove in the afternoon, just as the rain was increasing. Squirrel Cove is the main First Nations settlement on Cortes Island, and the marina and general store for the small town are located out on the open water (not in a sheltered cove, as many of the other wharfs are). We decided to moor for the night anyways, as we needed some power and fuel, and anchoring isn’t nearly as much fun in the rain. Our plan was to head into the anchorage or up for another day-trip the next morning.

The rain increased, and we all decided we were taking a ‘day off’. We shopped in the extremely well-provisioned general store, did laundry, took long showers, and rented movies. We checked out the little craft co-op, which opened for a few hours one day, and picked salmonberries by the side of the road. John talked his way into buying some fresh spot prawns on the last day of the fishing season, so we enjoyed delicious seafood as well.

We left Squirrel Cove heading around Cortes Island towards Gorge Harbour. Taking its moniker from the large rock faces that surround the entrance, Gorge Harbour was pretty much the opposite from Squirrel Cove. The central part of the harbour is a large marine resort, newly renovated and quite swanky. We tied up in between multi-million dollar boats and immediately jumped into the hot tub with a view of the harbour. Good times living in desolation!

Pictures of Desolation Sound - part I

CLICK HERE for some pictures of the first part of our sailing trip to Desolation Sound

Heading North: Sailing from Vancouver to Desolation Sound

 Nearly everywhere around Vancouver is a playground for boaters, but Desolation Sound is the most storied destination. The moment you mention sailing near Vancouver, most people ask whether you’ve been up to “Deso”. About 120 nautical miles (220 km) north, requiring several days transit time both there and back in a sailboat, you really need a minimum of three weeks to even touch the surface of the area, so this was the first time John and I had had enough time to consider the trip. We spent many days preparing the boat, provisioning, and planning before setting off on our adventure on June 6.

We left the harbour, headed for Plumper’s Cover on Keats Island, a marine park we had visited many times before. Into the second hour of motoring, John was completing his extensive safety briefing for our land lubber friend Kathleen, who we had invited to join us on the trip. He and I were leaning leisurely back onto the lifeline on the port side of the boat while he was answering ‘what if’ questions…and the lifeline snapped. We both flailed our arms, and John grabbed onto the tiller as Kathleen stabilized it, keeping us on the boat. We almost left our new crew member alone on the boat on her first day!

We spent a lovely, but chilly, afternoon on Keats Island exploring the beach and forest. The entire moorage field and campground were abandoned, making it a bit of a surreal experience. Another test for our newest crew member was presented that night when the wind, tide and current converged at truly weird angles on our boat, rocking us forcefully from side to side as well as up and down and somehow, diagonally. We all survived, but felt a little wobbly leaving the next morning for Secret Cove.

As we passed Gibsons on the Sunshine Coast, we entered new territory on our floating home – this was the first time we had been this far north. The wind, current and waves collaborated to push us forward at lightning speed (…well, lightning speed for us – about 8 nautical miles an hour). John was in his glory as we sped past a huge tug and tow. Seriously. I was a little more nervous, as the following waves grew to five feet and higher. It was a bit of a relief to duck into Secret Cove – three hours ahead of schedule! We anchored right in front of the marina, surprised at how, well, populated the area was. Not so secret.

Walking Mojita, we discovered a dirt road bordered in huge bushes of Scotch Broom. Although quite invasive, it is a beautiful plant while in bloom with thousands of yellow flowers resembling snapdragons. Kathleen led us through a yoga practice in the middle of the field – definitely the most beautiful place I have ever done a downward dog! Refreshed, we headed out for a short sail to Pender Harbour.

Our club has an outstation at Pender Harbour, where we can stay and use the facilities for a small yearly fee. As we approached the outstation, John and I looked at each other doubtfully. It didn’t look like much coming in, it was far away from the services in the harbour, and many other sailors had told us they prefered to anchor further into the cove. We were prepared to spend a night and move on early the next day to a nice quiet anchorage.

After a questionable docking experience that had us cursing our small, offset, outboard motor for its inability to reverse efficiently, we realized we had found a hidden paradise! Pender Harbour Resort is by far the nicest marina/campground that I had ever seen. Acres of manicured lawns, flowerbeds, a sports field, firepit with stacks of dry, cut wood (and metal marshmellow sticks!), along with a pool, convinced us to stay another day. The owner, Jeff, and the managers, Tammy and Walter, convinced us to stay one more after that.

Not only was it a beautiful location, but the people were gracious and entertaining. Walter and Tammy have installed their own DJ equipment in the main hall, and they put it to use at every opportunity – Kathleen was thrilled with the endless dance party! Jeff took us on a couple of hikes: one near the resort, and another to the Skookumchuck Narrows. It was a beautiful opportunity to see more of the landscape populated by arbutus, giant cedar, and carpets of ferns. We all agreed we could have spent the rest of the summer around the area. But the life of a sailor means moving on (…or at least that’s what I think Jimmy Buffet would say…)

We had a long sail up to Powell River, the largest town on the Sunshine Coast, and what we believed to be our last place to provision fresh food. We docked outside of town in the rain, and took at taxi into the grocery store and back. On the dock, we met the owners of Warlord, a beautiful custom-made sailboat, who recommended several hidden gems in Desolation Sound.

As we were leaving the dock the next morning in the rain, Kathleen and I were simultaneously trying to clear the condensation off of the depth sounder and put our fingers through the covering. No big deal, we thought, at least now we can see the number! Turns out that the crappy plastic covering was actually keeping the water out of the instrument itself, and it promptly died. Going into anchorages and shallow passages for the first time without a depth sounder did not seem like a great idea, but John assured me that we would just approximate from the charts and GPS, and if all else failed we would make a plumb line. Good times.

After several hours sailing, we passed through the Copeland Islands and vowed to explore them the next time through. The arbutus were magnificant, and we were graced with three bald eagles. We reached Desolation Sound Marine Park and felt as though we had really started on our adventure – after many years sailing around the Southern Gulf Islands we had finally made it to Deso! We ducked into Galley Bay to anchor by ourselves for the night. Stunning.

Adventures on a Sailboat - while moving and not moving

We returned from Mexico on May 1st to beautiful Vancouver…it was green, the air was sweet, and the temperature was +10˚C. As a daytime high. Brrrrrrrr…

So, we spent the first few days bundled into all of our newly purchased alpaca gear as we moved back to our life in Vancouver. Which is perhaps a bit of an overstatement, as we don’t have to return to work until November 1st, so really we just moved back the better part of our life in Vancouver. As we’ve rented out our apartment for the duration of our year off, we are staying temporarily on Inamorata, our 27 foot sailboat. Most of what we own is in a 8x8 storage container, which we ‘shop’ in on a regular basis…and where I seriously considered sleeping a few nights that were too cold for our mini electric heater to handle.

When we tell people that we’re staying on our boat on and off for several months, many convey their wish to do something so romantic one day. Some comment that they couldn’t spend a full day in such close quarters with another person without the threat of a murder-suicide. Both extreme views have some merit, but overall we have found that we are able to live together in our ‘cave’ on the water quite successfully. It does mean that we both have to get enough exercise away from the boat everyday (which is easy when Stanley Park is your backyard), and that John sometimes has to find a movie theatre or restaurant to take me to when I get too claustrophobic. Having Mojita, our dog, makes everything more enjoyable, as she reminds us when it’s time to play or get the *$%^$% off the boat.

The romantic notion sometimes gets taken down a few notches, like when I try to wax my legs by heating up the jar of wax in front of the rotating electric heater while huddled under a blanket. Or when I try to paint my toenails with a high-powered headlight. Somehow neither the procedures nor the results are quite the same as a salon. Not to mention the ½ km walk from the boat to the showers discourages frequent washing…

While I was away in the Yukon visiting my family, John was busy getting the boat excursion-ready. When your dwelling is a boat, you learn a lot of things that you should probably apply to a real house, but you usually don’t. For instance, you (in this case John) learn how to install, replace, fix and maintain all the systems that make a residence a residence: electrical, water, sewer, etc. You also learn how important it is both to decrease the amount of ‘stuff’ you have around, and that every single thing has a specific place. If you don’t put everything away, not only is the boat quickly cluttered to the point of madness, but as soon as you go for a sail, it will inevitably end up in a messy pile on the floor of the boat, usually under something wet or heavy or both!

As John is an expert in boat-readiness, everything was lovely when I returned with Mojita in the middle of May. We left on a week-long sailing trip the next day, headed towards the Sunshine Coast then over to Nanaimo. We got out into English Bay an hour into the trip, and the ocean decided to provide us with one of the most uncomfortable landscapes we’ve had. The wind and the waves were both directly in front of us, so sailing wasn’t really an option – a nasty ‘head sea’. By the third hour, both Mojita and I were cuddled into the bulkhead looking a little nauseous, so at our first opportunity we turned the corner and decided to spend the night at the posh Union Steamship Marina on Bowen Island. It was sheltered, sunny, with power, a clubhouse and WiFi… a great decision! 

When we headed off the next day across the Georgia Straight, the weather was beautiful and we sailed smoothly right into the Nanaimo harbour for a sunny weekend filled with friends, kegs and walks in the forest.