Salt Spring Island 2019

We loved the Twassessen Gulf Islands ferry ride,. Having White Spot bacon cheese burgers while whales broke the surface ahead and around. Being in Active Pass brought back fond memories of the SV Giri. Laura reminisced about Mayne Island.  Pretty soon we were through and there was the place where I caught ling cod and salmon. There was Montague Harbour where I anchored so often. Then we were coming into Long Harbour

We drove the Ford F-350 white pick up truck with Adventurer camper triumphantly onto Salt Spring.

The SSI Rally began the next day.  I called Kirk. He lives on the island and manages Islandia Bed and Breakfast here among other business endeavours.

“Take the Vesuvius Road.’  He said.

It was a bit touch and go to nget the wide tall camper up his winding driveway but Kirk really was a good flag man. Great to see him.  60 years of friendship and still going.  Hugs. Laura has know him 20 years so it was a grand reunion.  Then we finally met John, whose place this all is.  

The truck and camper were left in the parking area, the struts getting  a real work out to balance the camper on the slopes.  Nachos on the deck.  Old friend and new friend conversations. It’s been a year since we’ve seen Kirk.  Facebook has kept some of the history going. 

The view from the deck is magnificent. Pine, spruce, eucalyptus of the island.  The channel below. The new cabin cruiser at anchor with the 77 corvette gas engine.  Stories of adventure with the new ‘project’. 

Tannis and Lindi had visited. Talk of Robertson’s. Discussion of Vincent Massey High School.  The reunion next year.

“I was shocked at how many people had died.” He exclaimed

“We’re at that age.” I replied.,

John was keen to swim. Kirk and I followed him down the steep stairs to the rocks. I remembered the Minaki dock and diving off that in the morning. Mr. Laidlaw would lead the pack of boys.  The girls would swim later with Mrs. Laidlaw.  A quieter affair.  Not the cannon balling and screaming of the boys.  The water as cold as this was.  

John,​Kirk and I swam out to the platform.  Three guys lounging.  There must be thousands doing this at this very moment on docks and platforms through this latitude.  The sun declining.  Evening whispering pink at the edges of the sky.  We swam back.  Hot shower luxury at the top of the stairs.  Change to dry clothes.

Kirk barbecued the salmon perfectly.

We ate and talked of the paranormal. Personal reflections on seeing the ghosts of our dead family and friends.  Visitations before and after funerals.  Sweat lodge and ICU stories of others. Moody and Eben Alexander. Psychic Wars.  Princeton. Duke≥  Kirk talked of Prem.  John had been to India and reflected on the places Laura and I’d  be visiting in our up coming trip.  He talked of 3 d printing and start ups.  Kirk and I shared about what we knew of past loves, the angels who’d passed through our lives.  Nostalgia, humour and gratitude.  

Lots of laughter.  God friends. God friends.

Laura had gone early to bed.  Gilbert had made friends with Cocoa the black cat.  Cocoa followed Gilbert and I back to the camper to ensure we were safe.  Laura and I slept so soundly. The quiet and joy of this graceful place.  Kirk shared that the B&B had hundreds of ‘bests’ and ‘thanks’.  Elegant, cozy, refined and nestled here in the heart of ancient spiritual Salt Spring.  

In the morning Kirk guided me up the winding Islandia drive way.  Then he drove ahead to take us back to Ganges. We stopped for propane , parking there to walk on to the Tree House Cafe.  More old friend conversations and laughter.  Fabulous Huevos Rancheros. More coffeee.  Gilbert loved all the passing dogs and people.  It was a beautiful blue sky and sunshine day.,

Parting hugs.

Laura and I drove up to the Farmer’s Institute.  Parked in the field and organized the camper. We were the earliest. Others would stream in through out the day,. We loved watching them set up tents. Lots of young girls. The cutest most loved baby in the camp beside ours.  Dogs and children sounds.  

Just great to see Brian.  Retired forester, he shared all the places he’d been this last year in his camper. The year previous he’d taken it across Canada but this year it had been mostly northern BC and Alberta. I’d been to Pemberton and others who’d joined us waxed poetic about camping there and the Okanagan.  Brian has a great hug. We’re lucky to see each other a few times a year. One of the best of people.  

So many big hearts here.  No big egos. We’re melllowed with age. Some big brains but really it’s the big heart people we so enjoy.  I was reminded of Kirk’s friend Judith and her poverty of wealth but richness in friends.  Kirk had told us of her death and celebration of life, quoting her phrases that others had repeated. 

We collected our reginstration material, coloured our name tag sheep.  Back at the camper we napped and read. The first speaker came on in the evening. Fewer people than previous year.  Lots of announcements. Then a classic story shared. At the end we ‘circled up’.  Holding hands in a big circle, saying the briefest prayer of hope.  

We met up with Murray and Chris. They’d come on his red Harley, camping where he had the year before≥. We were glad they came by.  We shared stories. Laura and I really liked Chris. Murray is a favourite for his humor and stories.  Daring dashing larger than life character. 

“She’s down to earth and easy to be with,” Laura said of Chris.

“I didn’t talk too much.  Didn’t offend anyone.” I asked.

“You were just fine.  Wa all had a good time. “ she said.  

I worry when I’m having a good time.  Paranoid, I look around for government thought police and joy police.  Wait for the next shoe to drop. Trauma’s of the past.  Two faced folk lying.  But it’s safe here. I’m relaxing again.  Among friends. God people.

In the bed before sleep Laura, Gilbert and I all hug then I put the poor boy down in his bed.  Laura and I read our iPad Kindle stories then drifted off to sleep., We heard other campers voices sharing.  No loud canned music.  No techno noise.  Campground sounds.  Country night sounds.  

I woke this morning and felt so rested.  I’ve slept in the group mind of God’s children.  There’s a lightness of spirit in the air.  I open the camper’ Venetian blinds and see he baby  playing on his blanket  next door by his older brother. The mother is having her coffee.

I walked Gilbert about the half waking , half sleeping camp.  I  picked black berries from the bush by the road. They tasted so sweet. 

Islandia B&B

SSI Rally - Lambroast and camp out at the Farmer’s Istitute

Salt Spring Island Rally 2018

It’s an annual prilgrimmage of the very best sort. Murray told us this is his 13th year in a row.  It must be nearly a dozen times for me.  I told Laura I love going because Harley Murray and Forestry Brian are always there and I love those guys.  Deeply spiritual men who really take service seriously.

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.