Sitting kitty corner in my craft room is an oak file cabinet that I painted white and trimmed in teal. In it are pendaflex files that contain manila folders that contain pieces of my life. Some are filled with medical records, others pertain to work, and the rest hold bits and bobs from trips we’ve taken. The vacation ones are most interesting to me because I’ve kept receipts, maps, and handwritten notes in them. And together with my journals and photos, it’s easy to recreate an experience and ultimately gain new insights into people, places, times, and even myself. Recently, I went through one of those files and here’s how the story went.
Our journey that early September morning in 1994 began with a 45-minute taxi ride to LAX. There we boarded an Air Canada Flight and three hours later, landed at the Vancouver International Airport. After clearing Customs and retrieving our luggage, we headed to the Avis counter. Keys to a cobalt blue Mustang convertible were handed over and luckily for us, the weather let us take advantage of the car’s main feature. Ah –the wind in our hair!
Our first stop along the way was Joe’s Café on Commercial Street. For what? What else? Two large cups of joe and muffins. Next up, the Book Warehouse on Main. There the cashier rang up two mysteries. Those were the days before personal computers and cell phones, and we knew our room wouldn’t have a TV, so books would be our nightly entertainment. No complaints here!
Soon, we parked and wandered around the streets of downtown Vancouver. Department stores, shops, and art galleries invited us in. With several hours left before the last leg of our journey, we headed to Stanley Park. Just over 1,000 acres this urban park has something for everyone. Walking paths, gardens, beaches, even an aquarium! The scenic views of the water, mountains, and trees were amazing!
After a lunch break at Maxwells, we hopped back in the Stang and found our way to Concord Pacific Place. Locating the Cantel Grandstand near the Snap-On Tools Paddock, we heard them before we saw them. Those were the thunderous roars of the Molson Indy Qualifying cars racing by! When the Sports Car Invitational event ended, we had just enough time to grab a bite before finding the boat terminal.
Around 9:30 pm we were in Tsawwassen and boarded the ferry. A few hours later, when we crossed the Strait of Georgia, we knew we were almost there! Just a 10-minute drive from Long Harbour and we’d be at our final destination, The Old Farmhouse Bed and Breakfast on North End Road on Salt Spring Island.
From my journal: September 3, 1994, On Salt Spring Island, B.C.
“Got in around midnight. Met Karl who showed us to our room…not in the main house but on the side yard…a cottage called “Chateau Poulet”!”
Too tired to think of anything but sleep, we slept. Seven hours later we woke to the sound of rain splattering the windowsills. Chilly, dark, and damp outside we showered then headed straight inside the main house. Karl’s wife, Gerti, greeted us warmly then we took our places at the table and met the other guests already seated. A splendid spread was laid out before us. Orange juice, poppy seed muffins, raspberries, poached eggs, crepes, quiche, and slices of ham and lox. A delectable breakfast to savor. And savor, we did.
With five full days on the island, we discovered and explored all it had to offer, and in doing so, we learned some fun facts. Like the name of the cozy cottage that was our haven was actually named after what resided in it before guests did. Chickens! Although Chateau Poulet translates to Chicken Palace, we referred to it as our “Chicken Shack”. We learned that all items for purchase at the Ganges Farmers Market every Saturday are handmade. Framed watercolor paintings, sweaters, breads, you name it, all are made by locals. And we found out that the first residents settled there in 1859, and most made their living through farming.
This fact led us to our next discovery. Food and beverages. We learned that just about any foodie would find happiness on their plate and in their glass visiting the varied restaurants and cafes. Pomodori served delicious scratch made Mediterranean and plant-based dishes, which especially appealed to me, as I was a vegetarian then. The Fulford Inn housed an English-style pub with tasty beer on tap and dartboards on walls. And another neighborhood pub, the Vesuvius Inn was a perfect place to eat fish and chips while viewing spectacular sky streaking sunsets.
Exploring Salt Spring Island’s natural beauty was a treat, too. After consuming many yummy scrummy moreish meals, it was time to get outside. At the top of our list was hiking and Ruckle Park was a great choice. We trekked along its seven miles of coastline and then ascended on the Reginald Hill trail. Our reward, besides burning lots of calories, was a fabulous view of Fulford Harbour. Surrounded by water, we just had to get out on it, which led us to Salt Spring Kayaking. When asked if we’d prefer single boats or a tandem, we chose the latter. With shouts of, “Go left! Go left! No, that’s right!” heard across a peaceful cove, we learned that under no circumstances we were to ever share a kayak again. We also discovered that a bike ride rated 3, on a scale of 1 to 3, really is “gonzo abusive” according to the scale on the pamphlet! And it was also true that this trek had four “quality” hills, narrow windy sections, and some gravel along the way. Renting bikes from Island Spoke Folk, we pedaled to the summit of Mount Maxwell. While it took us two hours to get up, it took only 30 minutes to get down. What a ride!
Reminiscing about our time spent on Salt Spring Island some 30 years ago, I wondered what it would be like today. Were the restaurants and pubs still there? Were the events like the Saturday Farmer’s Market still taking place? And was the Old Farmhouse B & B still pampering its visitors? So, I did a little digging. This led to another discovery. One that involved a photo I took inside the Chateau Poulet, and the proprietors, Karl and Gerti.
A Journal Journey 