Just go

Shortly after we moved here I was given two sage pieces of advice for living on the North Coast by a long-time Rupertite:

1) Always attach the lid to your garbage can with some sort of line or else it will disappear quickly in the wind on stormy garbage days

2) If it's nice out, GO!  Don't wait, don't delay.  You never know what the weather will be like later and if you squander a sunny day, you'll regret it.

It was number two I was thinking of as I stood outside on the most gloriously sunny Remembrance Day I've ever experienced.  I had planned on working that afternoon following the ceremony at the cenotaph, but it was so exquisite out that I quickly abandoned that well-intentioned idea.  Instead, I traded my laptop for a paddle and headed out with a few friends for a couple of hours on the harbour.

It's not that the Prince Rupert harbour is the most scenic paddle; industry, cargo ships, and the Port predominate the view, but there is still nothing nicer than being on the water on a calm, sunny day.  We headed across the water to Digby Island to stretch our legs and explore a bit before heading back as the sun was setting.

As daylight has become a precious commodity now that we are so close to solstice, and drizzly, stormy days are more the norm, these memories and taking advantage of good weather adventures are increasingly valuable.  I spent the sunny moments this weekend inside working on Christmas gifts and I've regretted since it started raining yesterday.  Still much to learn, including always heed the rule: When it's sunny, just go...

wee paddle

Whine and you shall receive?

My last post was admittedly a bit of whinge about how summer has whizzed passed and I hadn't done many of the things that I'd wanted to do-- including getting out in the canoe (aka "The Red Dragon"...haha).  But just after my online pout, Ty patched the canoe and we had a chance to go for a short paddle last weekend out of Kloiya Bay.

Kloiya is just a few minutes out of town, with an easy to miss turn off just after the Galloway Rapids Bridge.  If you don't have a boat of your own, Skeena Kayaking rents rough and tumble plastic kayaks there during the summer time. We had Ty's siblings and another friend with us who all rented without any issue (though apparently the paddles were extremely heavy).

We headed out later in the afternoon than we'd hoped, so we weren't out for long -- just a couple of hours. Despite the overcast skies with rain off and on throughout, it was really lovely. Nothing nicer than being out on the water.  

We had a few seals following along, and the kayaks could easily tuck in close to the rocky shorelines to scope out the intertidal life.  We hung a right heading out of Kloiya Bay (northeast), taking us up Denise Inlet.  If you go left, you'll head into Morse Basin which leads you either to the Galloway Rapids and the Wainright Basin, or towards Butze Rapids and Prince Rupert.  

It was a great spot to spend the afternoon.  If we go again I'll pack a picnic and maybe a crab trap and spend a bit more time out there exploring.  Fingers crossed September is a beauty month and summer holds on a little longer...

not-so-restful summer

And just like that...it's the middle of August.

I am not sure what I was thinking when I spent the spring dreaming of a restful, beautiful summer in the north.  I somehow pictured our first summer here would be filled with lazy afternoons in a hammock, mid- lake naps in our little red canoe, picnics on the beach, exploring new parks and hidden camping spots, late-nite campfires after glorious sunsets, meandering adventures with no real timeline... Apparently I forgot what summer is actually like: BUSY. Plus we bought a house.  That needs work.  Lots of work.  More busy.

And busy is the exact reason that it's the middle of August and much of my summer wish-list is not fulfilled. July was full of work, including 10 days on the boat and then a crazy whirlwind trip south for a family event, which while fun, was chaotic with a side of too-much-driving.  Throw in a few weekends of work outreach and house renos and voila, here we are.  Sadly, I didn't get to Khutzeymateen or a northern musical festival.  I haven't caught a halibut and no huckleberries have been picked.  There have a been a few beauty sunsets, like the one above, and a few campfires in our new backyard, but our little red canoe has been land-locked due to a small hole, my picnic basket is empty and I haven't done any north coast camping since June.

I'm not complaining though.  Summer always seems to go by too quickly and it's usually not until mid-November that I remember all the glorious stuff that occurred.  We've also been so lucky to have a ton of wonderful visitors, and more are still on their way.  I love sharing this place with people.

And...summer isn't over yet.  Perhaps this blog is a reminder to live up these last few glorious weeks.  To seek out a few more of those moments that will sustain me come winter time.

Summer, I'll make the best of you yet!

seafest moments.

The middle of June brings one of Prince Rupert's biggest weekends of year: Seafest.  A jam-packed three days of family-friendly activities all over town.

The truth is, however, I didn't actually get to see much of it.  I pulled a rookie mistake and committed to two full days of work activities as part of Seafest, plus some prep in the evening and missed out on experiencing much of the festivities.

Lesson learned. Next year= more fun, less work.

It didn't mean that I didn't enjoy the weekend. There was a great vibe around town- tons of happy families, music, and festive atmosphere.  Even Ty got into the spirit.  He and another friend participated in the kayak firedrill race in which teams paddle out to an inflatable life raft and then have to switch spots in a tandem kayak before racing back.  They won (so proud!) and managed not to dump, unlike one of their competitors.

Here are some (poorly captured on my phone) moments from the weekend.

Kayak photo by Thanh Nguyet Nguyet vo

groundhog spotting

I started writing this post last week and hadn't yet published it because I thought no one would care to read about my backyard rodent-friend.  But let's be honest, my mom is probably one of the few people that actually reads this blog and she'll like it...so, here we go.  ;)

In mid-May we had some friends from Smithers come for a weekend visit with their toddler.  It was great to see them and discover Rupert through the eyes of a two year old (highlights: boats, ice cream, and Mason).  Their visit also uncovered a north coast neighbour we didn't know existed.

The sunny-ish weather inspired some bbq-ing and open patio doors, which is how our house guests discovered what they first thought was a cat in the neighbor's backyard.  Upon closer inspection, however, the supposed cat turned out to not to be feline at all, but a rather large-sized, plump rodent.

What the hell was it?  Embarrassingly, two of us in the room graduated with degrees in Wildlife Biology, but the best we could muster was that it looked like some sort of marmot.  Good old Google came to the rescue (seriously, what did we do before Google?) and we realized that our new next-door neighbor was indeed a marmot- in fact it was the largest species of marmot, the groundhog (Marmota monax).

This was perplexing.  What the hell was a groundhog (also known as a woodchuck) doing so close to the ocean?  I thought marmots were mountainous creatures?  Even more curious was the fact that this groundhog seemed to have claimed a large pile of scrap wood as his empire. He sat atop it surveying his over-grown-backyard-full-of-junk kingdom.

This wasn't even the weirdest part...after spying on the groundhog for a while, we realized that a cat (a real one this time) was sauntering up behind our newly discovered friend.  Eek! I was certain that the groundhog's demise was imminent.  Alas, after skulking around and then bounding up behind it, the cat's presence appeared to have no effect on the groundhog one bit.  In fact, they appeared to be buddies.  He even let the cat sit on top of his wood pile.

And so, thus started my groundhog fascination.  Since discovering this little buddy (whom Ty has dubbed Sylvester), I did a bit more research into groundhogs.  Turns out, unlike other marmots, they aren't a mountain creature at all, but prefer lowland areas.  Despite the fact that their range map does not show them on the coast of BC, they do indeed live here in Rupert.  They are much more plentiful back east, however, and aren't always the most popular.  They build elaborate dens with mutliple tunnels that can do some damage to fields, parks, and even the foundation of a building.  They are also one of the few mammal species that actually undertakes a true hibernation.  Fascinating, right? (Stop rolling your eyes).  Find out more enthralling (I'm serious now) facts about groundhogs here.

My mother, being the fabulous, creative, quirky person that she is, adapted Edward Lear's Owl and the Pussycat just for me and my new groundhog friend.

"The Woodchuck and the Pussy-cat met for drinks on a sunny, woodland patch.

They’d brought clover so fine and dandelion wine, the last of the homebrew batch.

The Woodchuck looked up at the house afar and whistled a worried tune,

“The landlord is changing, there’ll be rearranging and likely eviction too!”

“Don’t worry ole’ Chucky, ole’ Chucky, ole’ pal.” purred the cat to his rodent friend.

“Stay out of their garden and you’ll get a pardon, and all will be right in the end.”

“Interpretation will be your salvation! There’ll be woodchuck-watch tours for friends.”

thousand steps

April started off soggy up here.  What felt like a long slog of wet weather finally broke two weekends ago and we woke up on a Saturday to sunshine.  It felt like we'd won the lottery.

To adequately take advantage of our blue-sky luck, we pulled out our already well-used copy of 'The Outsiders Guide to Prince Rupert' and chose a hike.  Ty has been wanting to check out the Thousand  Steps trail, so we grabbed Mase (poor choice, but more of that in a minute) and headed out.

The Thousand Steps trail begins just beyond the grounds of the cemetery and after choosing the wrong trailhead twice (we optimistically kept choosing other trails that were less overgrown) we finally got on the right path.  To be honest, I'm using the term path generously.  The trail is incredibly overgrown and unmaintained, but it still made for a good adventure.

The "trail" follows an old funicular of sorts that was created during World War 2 to bring supplies and soldiers up Mount Hays to a look-out station.   Apparently the carts were winched up and down, providing much easier transport in the steep terrain. Prince Rupert actually has quite a few World War 2 remnants.  Due to it's strategic position, after Pear Harbour nine different forts complete with ant-aircraft guns sprouted around the community. While much of the wooded supports that once held this smart transport system are now rotted away (or close to it), the tracks still remain and following them provides you a straight shot up the mountain.

Balancing along the old tracks at the beginning of the "trail".  The line above Ty shows the straight path up the mountain.

The level section at the bottom is short lived and after you cross a creek at an uncomfortable height above on some sketchy, moss covered logs (of which I was too terrified of plunging to my death below to take a photo of), you begin to climb straight up and don't stop until you've reached the look out.  

Start of the climb.

At first, the wooden steps that once supported the tracks are overgrown, but of a height that is easy to climb.  However, as you gain elevation, the steps get much steeper and higher and the hike soon became an all out scramble, with both hands and feet necessary to get yourself up.  We were very quickly soaked due to rivulets of water making their way down the same path. 

My one big note for this trail is that it isn't really appropriate for most dogs.  While I found maneuvering myself up this overgrown climb to be fun challenge, half-way up it stopped being fun for Mase.  The steps became too tall for him to be able to jump his 11-year old self up and pretty soon Ty was lifting him at almost every step.  Needless to say, the last half was tough on both Mase and Ty, who got an inadvertent upper body workout by heaving a 90lb golden retriever up the mountain.

View from half way up.

What I really liked about this hike was the sort-of spooky sense of history being consumed by the forest.  A few of the old carts that would have been winched up the mountain can be found among the trees, now slowly being covered in moss and mud.  The tracks, some suspended in the air, are also being slowly covered over by ferns and lichens, soon to be obscured by growth. Nature eventually covers its scars.

The Thousand Steps trail meets up with the short lookout trail on Mount Hays and leads to a spectacular viewpoint.  

Looking out over Digby Island and beyond.

We both agreed at the top that while going up had been a challenge, going down the same trail with Mason would be pretty impossible, so we decided to hike down the Mount Hays Road and then connect up with the Mount Hays Connector trail before walking through a neighborhood to get back to our car.  It turned out to be a great circle route in the sun and much easier on our doesn't-want-to-believe-he's-a-senior dog.  

I particularly like the butterfly stickers on this sign.

Mount Hays Connector trail

Big Trees

skunk cabbage country

Spring has finally arrived to Prince Rupert.  But instead of the cherry blossoms I'm used to back home, up here the new season is signaled by a slightly more pungent bloom: Skunk Cabbage.

Behind my office: skunk cabbage.  On our doggy walking route: skunk cabbage.  On the trails I ran yesterday: skunk cabbage.  Everywhere you look in this town, the cheery bright yellow heads of skunk cabbage (Lysichiton americanus) are poking through the saturated earth.

Now I am one of those crazy people who quite enjoys the smell of skunk (much to Ty's dismay) and while skunk cabbage doesn't have quite the same nose, I still enjoy it's musky, earthy smell.  Apparently I'm not the only one, the scent is actually used by the plant to attract pollinators like flies an beetles (so... obviously, I'm in good company).

In honour of this first sign of spring up here, here is a little skunk cabbage 101 (I know you were just dying to know more about it):

• While skunk cabbage may look like one big, yellow flower, each plant actually has a spathe (the big yellow leaf) and spadix (the interior club) that actually contains hundred of teeny flowers.
• Skunk cabbage has the largest leaves of a plant found in the region- up to 150cm long!
• The young plants (especially the roots) are food for bears emerging from hibernation.  Apparently it has a laxative property that helps clear things out after a winter spent asleep.
• Don't try to eat it, it contains calcium oxolate crystal that can cause some major burning.
• Apparently the big, waxy leaves were used by some First Nations as we would use wax paper or saran wrap now, to store food.

So cheers to spring in skunk cabbage country....

wild abandon

am·bas·sa·dor

amˈbasədər,-ˌdôr/

noun

4. an authorized messenger or representative.

Sunday morning on the S/V Wild Abandon

Let me introduce you to the  S/V Wild Abandon, Prince Rupert's very own sailboat ambassador.  To understand what I mean, you'd only need to peruse one of the lovingly-made photo albums created each year to chronicle her journeys.  In those pages, you'll see that each year Wild Abandon hosts a huge variety of friends, family, visitors and newcomers to the north coast. Wild Abandon's main objective seems to be to introduce and share this area with as many people as possible.

Coming through Metlakatla Pass

Wild Abandon's owners, Marty and Mae, are some of the nicest people I've ever had a chance to meet. Open, friendly, and so happy to share their local knowledge and love for the area with anyone new, I feel pretty fortunate that we were able to get acquainted with them through my job.  Two weekends ago, Ty and I had the fortune to join Marty and Mae for a day aboard.

Hosts and captains extraordinnaire

In short, it was fantastic.

First time at the helm (photo courtesy of Mae)

We headed out early for a full day on the water.  Our destination was Big Bay in search of herring spawn and possible whales. The water was calm and we had enough wind to do a bit of sailing on the way up. Unfortunately, we didn't run into any herring spawn, but we saw an abundance of sea birds and eagles everywhere that seemed anxious and waiting for the feast to begin.

I discover the bow seat and refuse to share (Photo courtesy of Mae).

Scenes from the sail

After we had lunch beside an island that was pepperd with bald eagles, a few humpbacks made a quick appearance along with some stellers.  We made our way back, picking up an incredibly loaded crab trap (Ty and I were blown away- so many crab, all legal!) and sipping a beer in that content way you do after spending hours on the water.

As we got into the harbour, we set the sails again and tacked our way back to the dock.  It was fabulous and terrifying all at once.  I've been on a few sailboats in the past, but have never been at the helm of one whilst under sail.  As we were keeled over, weaving through the anchored cargo ships, I was pretty sure I was going to fall right out and into the water that seemed to be only a few feet below my shoulder.  That, or somehow slam Wild Abandon into the hull of something much larger than us. I cackled laughter of nerves and glee the entire time, checking Marty's face regularly to make sure he didn't look to concerned.

Ty takes the wheel (Photo courtesy of Mae)

Marty doesn't look too terrified, I'm ok (Photo courtesy of Mae)

Trying not to fall out (Photo courtesy of Mae)

This post doesn't do the day justice.  It was one of those days where I felt so certain that Ty and I had made the right choice in upping our lives and moving to this soggy section of the coast.  As we finished off the day back at the dock with another beer and some incredible salmon pate, I couldn't have felt more welcomed by Prince Rupert's sailboat ambassador, Wild Abandon, and her two wonderful owners.

What a great feeling.

Photo courtesy of Mae

PS.  To top it off, Marty and Mae generously handed over 7 dungeness to us!  After sharing some with our neighbours we still proceeded to eat crab for the week. Ah-may-zing.

dire situation

Walking by Rushbrook docks yesterday, Ty turned to me very seriously and confided "Not having a boat in this town is a sin.  It's like having your hands tied up with a bowl of ice cream in front of you."

If you know Ty and ice cream, apparently our lack of boat is a very dire situation. I don't think I've ever seen him look quite as concerned.

Luckily, we've had some lovely people take us out on the water lately.  Stay tuned for that post when I get around to writing it.  As a preview, this is Ty's face on a boat.  So HAPPY!

of dilated pupils and 125 year old boardwalks

So here is a little, crucial life tid-bit that NOBODY told me:  When you go to get your eyes checked they put some crazy drops in them and dialated your pupils to the size of pennies which means you CAN'T. SEE. ANYTHING.

Ok, ok, that is being a bit dramatic, but seriously, if you get this done, your life will be blurry for a good 2-3 hours.  You will pretty much be useless.  This is a vital piece of information that perhaps the bloody optometrist should TELL YOU when you make an appointment to get your eyes checked.  Especially when you tell her you haven't had your eyes checked in well over 10 years.  Alas, she did not, so I found myself floundering at approximately 9:45am last Friday in the optometrist office feeling like I was underwater without a scuba mask.

This would not have been a big deal except a) I was supposed to be working and b) I was supposed to drive out to the North Pacific Cannery in Port Edward for a meeting.  This is about a 20 minute drive away and I couldn't clearly make out the wall 4 feet across the office from me, let alone safely operate a vehicle.

Crap.

Very luckily, I had the wonderful Tess working with me last week, so as I flew back into the office (in a similar flourish of chaos and swearing as I had left as I'd actually completely forgotten about the eye appointment in the first place until they called wondering where the hell I was), I was able to toss her my keys and we hit the road.  That was after she had stopped laughing at me because apparently SHE KNEW this was going to happen and also had not warned me about my imminent blindness

We arrived at the cannery to meet with the manager there, who is organizing a community event later this spring.  Luckily we are new friends, so I was able to explain the reason I looked like I was as high as a kite and also why I needed to wear my sunnies even in the dark and shadowy buildings.

The North Pacific Cannery is a super cool place.  It opened in 1889 and was once the foremost packer of sockeye salmon in the world.  Unlike many canneries on our coast which have since fallen to ruin, the North Pacific Cannery has been preserved as a National Historic Site to exhibit and interpret the history of this once pivotal industry in British Columbia. Check out their site here.

Now I am quite certain that I will visit this place many more times during my time up here- so I will save more stories of its history until then.  What I will share with you is the few phone-photos I shot whilst stumbling around in my blurry haze.  To be very honest, I couldn't see my screen at all, so I was snapping photos totally blind and really just took them as a record to check back on later (just to make sure the whole scene wasn't a total dream). Therefore, what I saw looked nothing like this at all and looked more like a blurred watercolour Monet, but either way, it's a very picturesque place.