A fleet of gillnet boats waits for the sockeye opening
In a recent conversation with another local, our conversation evolved to discussion about one, of many, aberrant personalities here. These sorts of places attract off-beat characters with a plethora of personal issues. God knows I’m one of them. In places like this if you aren’t a social anomaly at first, you will be should you linger long enough. It’s a survival mechanism. We all tend to assimilate our environment.
In our discussion my co-commiserant said that the fellow in question probably needed some “Slap therapy.” I found his bush eloquence hilarious. That I found amusement in the remark is perhaps a symptom of my own advancing warpage and this morning I feel in need of some of that treatment myself. I’m lonely and depressed after a string of disappointments and shattered hopes. I need to cheer myself up.
Shearwater road signs.
As I sit writing this, on the settee across from me is a carving I commissioned to a local Heiltsuk artist, Ivan Wilson. He is renowned for his jewelry and has turned out a fabulous piece of art for me from the old yellow cedar root of a few posts ago. (See Fraggle Rock) It will be mounted as the cap on Seafire’s bowsprit, also doubling as a sort of figurehead. I’m thrilled with it. I believe it may bring me a change in luck. There are eagles which roost in the treetops above the boat and just now a piece of eagle down has drifted down into my cockpit. According to local native lore,that has to be a good omen.
‘Seafire’s” new bowsprit cap.
A few kilometres away last week, up Burke Channel, a forest surveyor was attacked by a grizzly bear. The attack is not really the story but rather that this fellow survived with minor injuries. That is a miracle. Not many people live to talk about their encounter with such a force of nature. When a grizzly attacks, it must be like trying to wrestle with a locomotive. I don’t ever want to find out first hand. Apparently, the conservation authorities are now out hunting that bear. Often, the “conservation” people employ extermination when dealing with similar situations and that thought can lead to interesting considerations. We’ll never know how their adventures turns out. The media is never very good at follow-up on yesterday’s hot stories.
Now a week later, we’ve had wonderfully welcome rains and some steaming muggy interludes in between. Thehorseflies reappear each time the thermometer rises. This morning I got my own slap therapy. One of the local service contractors managed to back his work truck into my new satellite dish. Gonzo! Bust! A bent receiver dish with a twisted wire hanging down is all I have to show for my great new link to the rest of the planet. It will be replaced but for now I’ve got no internet once again. The local installer is away for an indefinite period and I’ll have to go back to lurking about in quest of a decent connection and repeatedly attempting to bring up the sites I need .
So, this may be the last blog I’m able to post for a while. I’m posting it from the grubby shop where I work via the local gumboot internet. There was a wonderful response to my last two blogs where photos and captions took the place of prose. Maybe I’m on to something!
Ruins at the the abandoned BC Packers Cannery, Old Bella Bella
Don’t step on it. They could be aliens.
You’re letting the flies out.
A final view from old Bella Bella.
An old wooden boat slowly becoming forest again.
Yet another fishboat gives itself up to the alders.
Enough said.
I’ve now walked the full length of all the roads on the island. There must be only eight to ten kilometres in all. The roads are gravel and in fairly good repair. They certainly have their twists and turns around bays and bogs as well as up and down one bloody hill after another. Camera on the ready I trundle along and am constantly amazed at the beauty all around. The roads are rather dreary but there are sudden stunning vistas of the surrounding countryside. Then a visual treasure appears right at your feet. I’m posting some of those photos from the latest jaunt.
You up there? Scotty!!
A Fart Parkerson 169
The ‘Look At Me Galactica’
BCFV Nimpkish approaches the Shearwater dock
Meanwhile ‘Seafire’ gently tugs at her lines eager to journey on to new discoveries and adventures. There is so much to see here and then, a few miles beyond, the open ocean calls incessantly. I can hear it from here; clearly.
open Pacific beyond.
“Land was created to provide a place for boats to visit.” … Brooks Atkinson.