Skip to content

another wet day

I don’t know left from right, north from south, east from west.

Leaving Sheila’s house on a wet Sunday morning to catch the 10AM ferry, I turn back onto the Main Rd and head in the wrong direction. Ignoring every last visual clue, which clearly informs me that I am going somewhere I have never been before, I continue riding in the pouring rain and it is only when I arrive at Pluto that I acknowledge that I am far from the centre of the known solar system.

The street signs on Lasqueti are idiosyncratic but, nonetheless, informative.

The street signs on Lasqueti are idiosyncratic but, nonetheless, informative.

On a pleasant day I might have stayed to explore Squitty Bay but, as the rain is relentless, I retrace my path to the other end of the island and arrive at the ferry terminal twenty minutes late for the 10 o’clock ferry and two and a half hours early for the 1 o’clock ferry.

A cafe next to the terminal looks inviting but the doors are firmly closed. I sit on the steps, soaking wet and cold, until 11AM when the establishment opens and make my way to a table in the corner where a heater sits under the table. I arrange myself strategically to make the most of the hot air and address myself to drying out.

I board the ferry fortified by excellent pancakes and soon arrive in French Creek where I discover that I am without a clear plan. I hit the road as rain cascades down again.

Late in the day I find myself on the south-side of Nanaimo soaking wet and miserable. In a car park where I am futilely looking for a public telephone to ring a Nanaimo contact that I haven’t forewarned of my arrival, I ask a women for if she knows where I might find one. She enquires where I am staying and on hearing that I don’t really know she doesn’t hesitate, even for a moment, before inviting me home to her house for dinner and a bed.

Chris and I talk late into the evening. People constantly tell me that I am brave for merely getting on my bike. When I hear Chris’ story I realise that I know nothing of bravery. She raised two boys in very difficult circumstances, tragically lost her youngest son in an accident seven years ago, when he was thirteen years old, and still manages to find time and energy to help a total stranger in need. I leave in the morning in awe of Chris’ strength of spirit and tenacity, her ability and will to survive.

Chris in Nanaimo.

Chris in Nanaimo.

{ 2 } Comments

  1. joni spencer | October 5, 2009 at 8:05 am | Permalink

    hi anna, just to say hello and goodnight whereever you are on this bright fullmoon night. me and my family are in raymond washington, safely tucked in at a farmhouse decorated with peace signs after being seen at the local diner. its getting cold up here! take care! joni and family.

  2. anna | October 5, 2009 at 6:40 pm | Permalink

    hi joni, glad you’re tucked up safe and warm. i’ll send you some photos when I get to SF…

Post a Comment

Your email is never published nor shared. Required fields are marked *