Saturday morning Laura and I walked into the Old Farmer’s Institute and were caterpulted into the 4th dimension. Forestry Brian was serving coffee and Harley Murray was cleaning up tables. Murray had come on his Harley and was tenting. Brian had brought his Big Foot Camper.
We’d come over on Friday night on the 8 pm ferry to Fulford Harbour before driving through Ganges up past the school to the Farmer’s Institute. The air was thick with smoke still smelling of burnt toast. Not nearly as bad as Vancouver. Vancouver with the surrounding forest fires, some lightning, some terrorist was rated the worst air quality in North America. All outdoor fires were banned.
Lots of folk who would normally come didn’t because of the fear of fires.Half the tents and campers normally there. I set up my little North Face in the head lights of the Ford truck. Behind us was the new trailer of a lady with an endless group of young ladies she said.
Laura wasn’t happy with tenting as we’d planned to bring the camper. Gilbert, the blind cockapoo, however, thought this was perfect. He involved himself directly in all dressing and undressing maneuvers since tenting we were always at his level. Through the night, I learned later, he fought Laura for her pillow while I snored.
In the morning we walked up to the communal septic system toilets. None broke down this year so no line ups. The shower system was equally successful with lots of hot water and everyone happy with the flow. Laura wasn’t enthusiastic with communal facilities and waiting in line for a shower. No training in military or prison with harsh memories of catholic school. She did meet a big dog and his lovely owner once when Gilbert accompanied her and the neighbours big dog wanted to play with Gilbert in her stall.
Wanting to cheer her up, “I reminded her there were no bears tenting this year.” She found the grizzly warning signs disconcerting when I’d told her there were no bears where we were camping then.
Personally I loved the coffee and muffins. After her shower and a muffin I could tell she’d moved forward at least to humming the Monty Python song, Always look on the bright side of life”
I love holding hands in a large circle for those brief moments of communal prayer. It’s not something very popular in the DTES. But there we all were out in the country, no traffic sounds, birds tweeting and us all talking to God. In Government circles that’s a downright dirty word. Yet here we were all full of gratitude and praise.There’s so much to be said in touching hands and bowing heads. I really am blessed to be a part of something as deep and universal.
The speakers were the best too. Sharing their experience strength and hope while having us all laughing at the dastardly shenanigans we all got up to in some form or other. Egomaniacs with inferiority complexes. What inspiration. What tales of transformation. Caterpillars, butterflies and saints.
I loved the music too, always an unforgettable part of the Salt Spring Island Rally experience.. The band was spectacular. How do young people get so accomplished so quick. The dance was fun. Laura had gone to bed not having slept the first night. I just looked on nostalgic for the years of dancing all night long, the television shows and competitions. Now It was past my bed time too.
Near our tent a group of musicians were jamming over the weekend. At first I’d wondered why someone stopping the cd and playing it over again. Only when I looked to looked over did I see these were real humans. What talent!Fabulous.
What a fabulous weekend. So much talent and such comraderie. Not only were Brian and Murray there but a whole lot of folk from up and down Island and Vancouver.
When they did the countdown it seemed like half the place was over 20 years while the other half was under 2. Quite the spread.
Iloved meeting Zack who was at his first Salt Spring Rally. Anne Marie and a whole group of beautiful women were there roughing it. Lots of guys and couples on motorcycles. We met Kate and she was just visiting Ganges never having heard of the great secret of the Salt Spring Island Rally. She promised to come back next year if only because she’d fallen in love with Salt Spring Island.
The spiritual speaker was the best. Wow! She was from Winnipeg. She knew Rev. Bruce Myles. Names from the past. Brian who was also in Winnipeg years back had the same nostalgic joy hearing her story. Great names of people and places that touched her and all of us who knew that part of creation back in the day.
Laura and I went into Ganges in the truck for hot dogs at the outdoor stand. Later I rode the electric bicycle in to pick up tent pegs, half of mine having gone awol with the socks from the laundry.The sun was surreal with the smoke in the air.
I love the organizers of Salt Spring Island Rally. Every year they do this wonderful service to the community, organizing the place, ensuring all the permits are done, arranging for people and food to be there, then cleaning up. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
The famous Salt Spring Island Farmer’s market was on on Saturday packed with tourists and locals. Laura got some rhubarb scented soap. Other years we have bought jewelry and art and tomatoes. The town was packed with happy people. I love Mowats, where I got the tent pegs and Laura found a lovely nautical dress. No time for our favourite Black Sheep Bookshop this visit though. Other times we’ve been lost for hours there.
Kirk, my friend from childhood, now lives on Salt Spring so lunched on the deck of the Oystercatcher overlooking the vast array of yachts docked and anchored in Ganges. My SV GIRI had been there dozens of times.
This day Kirk and I reminisced about Fort Gary after I told him our spiritual speaker had been from the Peg and knew Rev. Bruce Miles. We reviewed the lives of family, and some childhood friends. I was pleased to learn the Laidlaw’s still owned the Minaki cabin I’d been invited to as a kid. It’s funny to me to hear us now old guys talk about the nephews and neices of our our older siblings remembering events fifty years ago. Who would have guessed. Namaste.
All round, as always, The Salt Spring Island Rally weekend was a truly wonderful spiritual experience.
When I am with so many people walking upright sharing in the celebration of wholesomeness, I feel so much closer to my higher power. The laughter is infectious. All of this wonderfulness happening on Salt Spring Island my all time favourite of the Canadian Gulf Islands, itself a centre from creativity, artistically and musically.
Also the lamb and cheese. It’s a farming island and the lamb and cheese are the very best. Our lamb roast supper was as always the best too. Talking with Brian about his retirement and spiritual journey was one of those unforgettable gifts, like Murray, who shared his early days and later years and doing service volunteering in prisons.
I’ve know Brian and Murray more than a decade and we converse little different from the way Kirk and I talk and we’ve know each other half a century. Childhood friends are so very special but in the spiritual programs of community we are blessed to meet some who remind one of loved brothers and sisters of family and child hood friends.That’s a part of the spirituality and the sense of synchronicity and flow. Living in the sacred. Everything despite the smoke in the air a bit brighter and surreal.
I love this and live for this sense of prescience. The band played Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah in Ganges square that day. That last Sunday morning we all sang, “Make me a channel of your peace” in unisonand harmony. Let me bring hope. Thanks to all.
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