The Bunkie

I'm not sure where the expression "bunkie" comes from. Bunkhouse probably. The first time I heard the term, it was in Ontario cottage country and referred to a tiny sleeping cabin behind a larger cottage. It certainly doesn't appear to be used here in British Columbia, so I do get some blank looks. No matter. Our house, which is one story on a concrete slab foundation, feels like a cottage (although not like any cottage I ever spent my summers in) and the guest "sleeping cabin" in our backyard has now christened itself "The Bunkie".

Now, what do you do with a bunkie when there are no guests? I've appropriated it for my studio and already am starting to spend a lot of time there. It's a fantastic space with its own fireplace, high ceilings, bathroom and kitchen counter with bar fridge and sink. I'll vacate when needed, for those of you who should come and visit (and you know who you are).

Introducing "The Bunkie"...

Fireplace

On Saturday evening the fireplace workmen left. After weeks and weeks I can have my house back. The plaster dust has been scrubbed, the furniture is back in and all is well. Just in time. Today was our first stormy day so fall is definitely here. Nice to curl up on the couch in front of the fire, while wind whips up the tree branches and a heavy rain falls. For a few hours anyway. Now, late afternoon, the wind has died down, the rain has stopped and some blue sky is showing through the clouds.

Here's what happened...

The original gas fireplace in place when we moved in.

The inspiration for the design - painting by Marc Nerbonne

Under construction

Finished - at last

Marc Nerbonne - an artist from Gatineau Quebec. This painting changes completely depending on the light, so a dimmer switch is necessary to see it at its magical best.

Renovations are like childbirth. Once it's over the, ahem, discomfort is quickly forgotten.

The New Dreamhouse

aka The New Greenhouse

More workmen around the house today, in addition to the never-ending fireplace build guys. Outside, they dug and hammered and then a huge cement mixer pulled up and by the end of the day the foundation for my new greenhouse was poured. Meanwhile I was on the phone to Jane at the manufacturer's office in Abbotsford arranging for final payment. The greenhouse is expected to ship the week after next.

A huge, flat wooden deck was removed

Framing the foundation

Sean the Carpenter and Norm the Cement Guy having a good long gossip - old friends of 19 years

The Pour

This is seriously cool. I have dreamed of having a greenhouse since forever. Forever appears to have arrived.

Lasqueti Island

Susan Mrosek

Latest moaning and groaning notwithstanding (last post), it wasn't ALL work through August and early September. Our first house guest, or should I say, our first Bunkie guest came for a few weeks. Maristella. We got to explore this new home and its geography together, making a point of really enjoying the summer that had come so late. Lots of time later to unpack that final box.

Now it was particularly important to get outside and enjoy the August summer weather as July was not so good. But whatever the weather, "hot" or cool, all I am is cold. Seems that my internal body temperature is still very much in Asian mode and I have been cold ever since I landed here. Bit by bit I have been adding layers, merino wool tops, heavy cotton sweat shirts (this only good for summer evenings - a lousy choice for when the rains really do come) and ... socks.

I didn't own a pair of socks. When Maristella and I went down to Victoria to spend a week at Haro House, I took myself sock shopping. The Left Coast is so quiche. Organic cotton, hemp and bamboo fabric. Costs a lot, worth it, feels terrific, unabashedly call themselves "the best sox" ever (this is true), claims that if you wear them you can help save the planet. (Ha! See Planet Earth Wants You to Leave to see just how much this will make a difference.) Still, I can see myself getting in touch with my inner hippie.

When I first went to Asia the heat was overwhelming. I suffered huge meltdowns at unforeseen and usually potentially embarrassing times that could only be helped by sitting down for 5 or 10 minutes and pressing ice against my wrists and neck, just above the collar bone. That was the only way I could finally get my internal body temperature in sync, otherwise it felt like I was an overheating furnace with a broken thermostat. However I eventually did adjust to it and now, four years later, with that warm Asian interior body thermostat setting, coastal British Columbia is freezing to me now. No doubt that too will change, with time, but meanwhile I am looking sartorially interesting to say the least, bundled up against the heat of this so-called summer.

This picture following was taken outside of Haro House by the water, in the afternoon, in mid-August. It was a "hot" summer day.

Freezing in mid-summer. Multiple layers of shirt, sweatshirt, Lao silk wrap. new Sox (note abandoned summer flip flops). Also note the reflection on the window - "my" view across the Strait to San Juan Island and the mountains beyond, how wonderful is that.

One day we took the passenger ferry from French Creek, which is about a 7 minute drive away, across to Lasqueti Island - a day trip to visit friends who have a cottage there.  Now Lasqueti Island is a place that I have known about for a very long time, although until now I really had no idea what it really was. Or, especially, WHERE it was. For such a long time, before we started visiting here in past years, the coastal area between the mainland and Vancouver Island was only an abstraction, an idea of a place. When I knew of Lasqueti Island way back when, I thought of it as some isolated place somewhere. This is true, to some degree, but now as I explore this geography around my personal ground zero, I can see "isolated" is no way to describe anything around here.

Back in the day, the time it came into my view, Lasqueti Island was home to a lot of 1960's era travellers, as well as not a few south of the border so-called "draft dodgers". Some were people seeking a back to the land life and some sought fellowship through co-ops and communes. Whatever, you really had to be seeking a certain lifestyle, which is still true today.

To this day, Lasqueti Island is off the grid. No BC Hydro. Alternative energy has been around here from necessity for a very long time. There is a permanent resident population of 350. There is no car ferry, so visitors come on a passenger ferry. Residents bring a car for use on the island over on a barge which is how all the building supplies and larger items are shipped over.  There is one restaurant/bar right by the ferry dock, another store/restaurant, a couple of seasonal B&B's, a cookie stand and that's about it to the casual observer. No town. No stores. No tourism there there. It is not a place for tourists to come, although the curious still do. You could bring a bike and cycle the roads on this 28 square mile island, but you would see nothing. Most of the houses off these roads are down a lane behind the trees. Very private.

The "on your honor" munchie shack, just up from the ferry dock. Payment on the honor system. But wait... may not be all that it seems...

Hmmm. Trouble in paradise?

And also very community. The scene at the ferry dock of people meeting and greeting shows that this is the island's "town square". Their website is a bulletin board - fascinating to read the postings; this and that wanted, or for sale, or to give away; ride wanted to Vancouver, Ride available to Vancouver; so-and-so won't have her usual table at the weekly market but will be back next week; an Alexandra Morton petition about the fish farms, please sign...

Lasqueti Island Passenger Ferry Dock

People who have lived here over the generations have been here because they wanted a certain kind of life that is unique and different from the Vancouver Island, other larger populated islands, or the Mainland. It's always been like that and it still is. Although, like everything, things change.

Once upon a time the island was once known, or at least rumored, to be a big source of growing marijuana. No doubt that hat has long since passed to large lower mainland gro-ops. Although I'm told, on very good authority, that pot is still being grown in those remote island fields. Unfortunately on our short day visit I was unable to confirm. In 2004 the police raided some property on the island, bringing in huge helicopters, succeeding in blowing some solar panels off roofs and scaring the children and livestock. They (the police) issued a statement saying that Lasqueti Island was a "hotbed" of illegal marijuana growing, and went on to imply a link with organized crime. Oh please. The residents weren't about to take this lying down and public meetings were held, complaining at the slander or libel or whatever you call it against them and scoring a lot of media attention and a public apology from the police.

Here's the thing. This wondrous island that I have known about, and been so curious about, for so long  happens to be right across the strait from our beach. What used to be to my mind, so remote, so away and so much mystery... is now part of our geography. One of those many shadows of islands out on the horizon  - now I can identify the shape of beautiful and quiet Lasqueti Island.

Arbutus tree (aka Madrona south of the border)

Eagle nests

Lasqueti Island bumper sticker

Settling In

I was thinking about the controlled chaos that has been my life the last month or so (if not longer) and was able to see, quite clearly, that although it still looks like there is a lot to do settling in to our new home, much has been done. What is also clear, in hindsight, is how gentle my life was in Manila the past year or so. Orderly and stress free. I went to the gym, went to pilates, played mah jong every Friday afternoon, had lunch with my friends, went shopping, cooked dinner, researched the next trip, did all the booking online, read, played with polymer clay and color, took pictures, wrote my blog and did whatever else I felt like. I never lifted a finger to clean the house other than some tidying up and certainly never pumped gas or had to find a parking spot. Back of the car, front of the plane. Life was easy.

We're not in Kansas anymore Toto.

The only things my life currently has in common with the previous description is that I still cook dinner  occasionally and I have no problem finding a parking spot, for quite different reasons than in Manila.

Here's how I/we've been spending my time in recent weeks.

Had house painted, bought humungous TV, shopped in Vancouver, assembled new bookcases (took 3 days), dug up some sod to create perennial beds, ordered new fireplace - the big renovation in all of this, still in process. 5 different trades have been traipsing through the house on that project. Hired electrician. Visited lighting store, got advice, bought lamps. Ordered greenhouse, interviewed carpenters, hired Sean the Carpenter to build foundation and assemble, redid all the woodwork in the Bunkie - that was Mark the Carpenter. Changed location of humungous TV, had cable wires relocated. Bought TV stand. Returned TV stand. Bought another one. "Some assembly required" fatigue has set in. Pay someone $95 to assemble it. Nice gig but no one wants to do it. Unpacked unpacked unpacked. Unpacked some more. Ordered new 110 volt small appliances. Bought hardware to secure Chinese display cabinets to wall. (Yes, this is ground zero for the Pacific Rim earthquake zone). Tried to fix leaking bathtub faucet. Unsuccessful. Bought drapes to cover back window doors. Bought curtain rod. Installed curtain rod. Hung pictures. Hung Lao weavings. Installed bamboo hangers for said weavings. Stitched weavings to hangers. Assembled shelving. Removed shelving. Installed bathroom mirror and towel rod. Bought garbage cans. Created plan for carport. Ditched plan for carport. Think about creating a new one. Sorted through clothes. Filled 3 garbage bags with clothes, plus 1 with shoes. Still too many clothes, many not at all suitable to new life. Bought new BC climate clothes. Got BC driver's license. Bought a car. Bought new bikes. Bought a sailboat. Got library card. Cleaned the bathroom.

I miss Rebecca the Maid in Manila. Can't believe how dirty the house gets with no one around to clean it. "Why is the floor dirty? Didn't I just sweep that 2 weeks ago?" Howard says it is time to lower my standards. In the store the other day when someone asked me where I was from, as is usual behavior in this town. When I said the Philippines, she actually asked if I had brought a maid back with me. As if. I also found it a little curious to hear that question asked, for all kinds of reasons.

Nothing, of course comes easily. Every little task requires at least one trip to the hardware store. I go there every day, sometimes 3 times a day. I've been wielding the cordless drill as if I knew what I was doing. So many decisions to be made. I have snatched one of the small bedrooms to be my closet, but have yet to find any wardrobes that suit me. Meanwhile the room is a disaster with clothes all over the place hung from those metal clothes hanger things on wheels. Horrible. I turned the tiny closet within the closet room into a shoe closet. That took weeks of waiting to get the right Rubbermaid closet pieces ordered.

However - the master bedroom is done, the master bath just about done and The Bunkie is finished. Kitchen is unpacked and set up. Den is almost there and the living room should be finished by next week (the drywall guy is now working on the new fireplace wall).

I've just about had enough of all this and it is time to Get a Life. I miss the gym terribly, to say nothing of pilates, so Monday I drove to Parksville (12 minutes away) and joined a gym. Met with the trainer and now have a new program and a new routine.  I'm glad I'm back.  Still no sign of a pilates instructor in town but I continue to look. Then yesterday we actually went for a bike ride on our new bikes that have just been sitting there for awhile, under the shed roof behind The Bunkie, after the big production getting them through our local bike shop ordered specially for my blue. More effort has been spent on choosing the color than actually riding it until today. I'm starting to think about the miniature theater project I plan to do this fall. I'm not sure if this falls under the heading of settling in chaos or getting a life but my greenhouse will be delivered in the next couple of weeks and I have to think about how to set it up with power and heating and plumbing. I'm thinking it may fall into the getting a life category as I will be forced to sit down and really think about what I'm going to do with it in the coming months and years and plan all those details.

Cedar-Built Greenhouse - similar to the one I ordered

I'm exhausted just writing this. Too much activity. Clearly time to recline in the garden and read a novel.

High Flying

When I landed on this continent 2 months ago it was after a very very long flight from Manila to Hong Kong to Vancouver, then on to Victoria. As the plane on that last (stunning) 25 minute flight passed over the beautiful Gulf Islands on into Vancouver Island and the airport in the north part of the Saanich peninsula, despite my fatigue there was an immediate feeling of energy and well-being. I have always loved landing at the Victoria airport, a true sense that we are now on an island, albeit a big one, with a sense of a slower, sunnier (even under clouds), friendlier pace.

However, this time at my arrival in Vancouver, as I walked that very long corridor to Immigration,  I thought, with a big sigh, "Just one more flight then I will not get on another plane for AT LEAST a year".

For the last 4 years while we were in Asia I traveled a lot. Monthly, or at least bi-monthly, I'd be in the airports going here or there. Shanghai, Singapore, Bali, Thailand, Laos, Viet Nam, Australia, Turkey, Spain, Netherlands, as well as within the Philippines, and returning to Canada 6 times. Thailand and Laos were the most traveled places, not counting transit trips through Bangkok. Laos was most beloved. I learned how to pack, how to travel with carry-on only, when doing that wasn't worth it, how to navigate these Asian shopping mall airports, where the lounges were, how long it took to get from one end to the other. I took my shoes off. I was physically patted down (assaulted) by Philippine security. None of it was exciting or glamorous. It was merely an unpleasant means of getting to places that, once there, were totally worth it.

Towards the end, I started visioning a 'plane and airport free' life. Thus the current year-long+ ban on air travel.

It feels good to be grounded.

There may be 2 exceptions to this no-fly zone. Number 1 would be float planes. There are a few places, including some places on the west coast of Vancouver Island, I'd like to go where really the only way to get there is by float plane. It's also another way to get to the mainland without taking the ferry.

The other exception is KD Air. I was very surprised to find that our little town actually has an airport and its own airline. It is adorable. Drive up to the front door of the terminal building, park right out front, and mosey on in. It even has a small restaurant with patio, a destination for private pilots? No security bullshit, when it's time to leave the pilot strolls through the waiting room announcing "Vancouver" and the few passengers follow him out to the plane. People seeing others off ignore the "passengers only" sign at the open door to the runway and stand outside the building on the tarmac side to watch the plane take off. This little airline has several daily scheduled flights to and from the Vancouver Airport as well as to a couple of other small airports and charter flights to wherever. People coming to visit us can fly into Vancouver then take this little airplane on a 20 minute flight (over gorgeous coastal scenery) and land in our tiny airport which is, get this, a 3 minute drive from our house. We can practically wait until the plane flies over the house before getting into the car to head out to the airport. Likewise, if we don't really need a car on our trips to Vancouver, instead of spending half a day taking the ferry over, we can be there in (relatively) no time.

I love the website with its pictures of the airline's staff. More of the small town, small scale atmosphere I'm finding so intriguing and so delightful.

Lars Banke, President & Chief Pilot, KD Air

A Town Called Cute

The town of Qualicum Beach has one stop light and no parking meters. It has a "real" walkable downtown with independent owner-on-site shops and lots of flowers. There is no Starbucks. For that you travel 8 minutes down the road to big brother town Parksville (population 12,000). I know all about this as one year we drove to Qualicum Beach on the day after Christmas, Boxing Day, and I couldn't find anything at all open and had to pee. Thank you Starbucks in Parksville. As a matter of fact there is no chain store of any kind in QBBC but no worries if you need to shop, half an hour away in the city of Nanaimo there is every box store imaginable.

The town shuts down around 6:00, although the local merchants are trying to persuade each other to stay open on Friday evenings. There are a few restaurants including a Thai restaurant and a Sushi "Bar and Grill", a most curious name for it, although it does have an authentic Japanese sushi chef. In a large city a Thai restaurant is one of many and no big deal, but in this little town, finding that it has even one was a cause of much excitement. Even during the day I sometimes remark that the streets remind me of Luang Prabang where you could shoot a canon down the middle of the street and not hit anyone.

There is a theater group in town and we went to see a play the other night. I bought the only remaining tickets for that night in the very back row of the theater. Row 11. At intermission you can get a coffee for $1 and a Kit Kat.

There are flowers everywhere and on residential streets the main sport appears to be competitive gardening. Seriously. The town has been a national winner in the Canadian Communities in Bloom awards. Here's the public washroom:

QBBC public washroom between the liquor store and grocery store.

Here's what it looks like in Manila...

Public urinal in Manila

 Sometimes I feel like I'm living in The Village of the old The Prisoner series.

Probably a good idea to keep your eyes peeled. Last week the visiting mother of a woman in the Nail Gal shop was riding a motorcycle when a deer popped out of the side of the road and ran right into her. She ended up in hospital with a broken arm.

Everyone talks to everyone in this town, which is taking some getting used to. Invariably when we go into a shop, we'll hear the entire life story of the shop keeper or sales person within minutes. A couple of days ago I hired a guy with a truck to come and take away the moving debris and although he was huffing and puffing his way through the loading, he talked nonstop, never once coming up for air. We heard all about his family and his retirement plans as well as about one of his recent customers who moved here from Nova Scotia where she had left an abusive relationship. It's become a bit of a joke, when Maristella (who is visiting right now) and I meet up after going into shops separately, we compare notes on what we have heard - and we have always heard a story.

EVERYONE asks "where are you from"? Someone the other day even asked me where I was born (can't remember, it was too long ago). When they hear that I've just moved to town they say "Well, it's quiet here". Or, "It's small". "Now is tourist season but JUST WAIT till October". The guy in the health food store finally used a new adjective - "it's boring". Ha, I thought, the truth emerges.

I never ever get bored, so we shall soon see.

Sunset from the beach

Friday's full moon from the backyard

Moving Day

Today we finally moved our things into our new house. A long day of non-stop action. Night time now and sitting in my familiar chair in its totally unfamiliar place, listening to an old playlist (could be the Somewhere Over Siberia playlist) and downloading pictures from the past few days.

Early this morning I had to drive to Nanaimo to clear the shipment through customs and meet up with the movers. Clearance took such a short time I wanted to get a refund on my parking meter (which in downtown Nanaimo is 25 cents for 30 minutes. Really.). A few questions, lots of stamping with a rubber stamp (some things across countries never change) and we were on our way. I notice that the guys who work at customs seem to be from central casting, they all of are a similarity. Huge muscles filling out their navy short sleeved uniforms, beefy, crew-cut (do they call it that these days). Not at all intimidating to me, as they remind me of at least one of my sons, but could be scary to, for example, the Chinese family traveling to Vancouver for a family wedding I was in the backroom with when I entered the country as returning resident a month ago today, filling out paperwork for the following shipment. I say that I'm not intimidated, but still, any markings of officialdom with the power to make or break your day is enough to make an upright citizen of a person, or at least behave that way.

We're in, it's a mess, and I'm indeed very happy tonight.

Grounded

One of the things I'm finding I really like about this house is that it is all on one level. A ranch house. Not only that, there is no basement (I loathe basements), so when I am in the house, walking around on the top layer of slate tile or wood flooring, there is nothing separating me from the earth, other than a concrete slab. There are two exits to the back garden and the bunkie, one through the mud room that leads in to the kitchen and the other through the patio door off the dining area. I can step directly to the outdoor patio and garden from these doors, less than a step down. I feel the earth under my feet always.

Now coming (via Asia) from Ontario, this is a real novelty. Where I came from, with its winters of mega-feet of snow and snow melt, there were always steps and elevations and separations from the ground, from the earth. And I noticed it. In our last house, only a few steps down to the garden, I remember daydreaming about a house where you step in or out, with no barrier. I've dreamed myself into this house.

At the bottom of the road, 2 houses away, is the 55 acre Heritage Forest. It really is an amazing thing to walk a few hundred whatevers down the road to find this...

The Heritage Forest at the end of our road

Entrance to the Forest Path - Very tidy and well maintained, as is everything in this town. Garbage bins, little bags provided for dog poop and signs about bears...

Stepping through the entrance-way, into the Forest

Inside this Forest are Giant Douglas Firs estimated to be about 700-800 years old, 2.3 m/7.4 ft  in diameter and 57 m/187 ft high

You can tell the Douglas Fir for sure from its pinecones, where if you look closely, you can see the hindquarters and tail of a mouse from a long ago tale, hiding within it.

Around 1870 part of The Forest was logged. Loggers stood on spring boards set in notches in the trees, to get above the butt swell for easier cross-cut sawing by hand.

Today you can see many huge stumps in the forest where those long ago lumbermen balanced themselves to cut the giant down.

You can see the history of The Forest if you look closely. Lots of signs of long ago and perhaps not so long ago forest fires.

Lots and lots of fallen trees, that provide life for new growth to build a new layer of the forest floor

Many shallow root trees are susceptible to high wind. I'm thinking you should heed this sign at the entrance and hightail it out of there in stormy weather.

In the evening, walking through The Forest, I am struck by its silence. In the morning walks, I can hear the birds.

Looking down, 6 inch slugs munch away.

Here's the human part of the story of the Heritage Forest of Qualicum Beach, earlier known as the Brown Property.

In 1996, a group of interested people in the town got together to find ways to keep this 55 acre property from being sold to developers. At first the idea was to have the Town purchase the property but when a referendum went to the wider taxpaying townspeople asking them whether they would vote for an increased tax to allow for its purchase, they voted NO. So, this group of Forest Friends, undaunted, set up a Foundation to raise funds which they did through a combination of community events, donations and sponsorship,  and to manage it, hoping to provide for the enjoyment of this wonderful forest for townspeople and visitors alike.

And they did it. They raised the money, bought it, and set it up to preserve it, for all to enjoy. Forever, how ever long that lasts.

I like this story. And I really like that it is just about in my backyard.