Articles
What’s a Little Rain
by Sharon Easton
Image by Sierra Lundy
“What’s a little rain,” my husband said as we packed our suitcases. We were leaving Nanaimo for my birthday weekend in Victoria. Covid stopped all our travel so I was anxious to get away too.
It was a wonderful weekend. We loved meeting up with old friends and wandering the city checking out coffee shops, restaurants and even a little shopping, a rarity during our off and on COVID lockdowns.
Chuck upgraded our room at the Grand Pacific Hotel to a beautiful suite. We were booked to leave on Monday morning, November 15th. This was the day of the torrential rainstorm causing chaos and damage on our BC highways. We watch the pouring rain from our patio suite but we linger a bit hoping it would stop. Check out time was 11am and we were packed and at the front desk by 10:59am. We were pleased with ourselves because the rain had stopped by the time we got into our car. Instead of listening to the road and weather reports, we played my newest Abba CD. We made a quick stop at my favorite bakery, and then a last-minute decision for a pizza that would serve as bunch.
As we made our way out of town and head for Nanaimo my husband turns on the news. The rains are bad on the Malahat; in fact, the highway is flooded. We’re not far out of town when we get caught in a heavy traffic. Soon we’re stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic and we’re not moving! It’s 1:30pm. I know we’re in for the long haul when I notice people up ahead running to the side of the highway looking for a private place to relieve themselves. We discover the Malahat is not only flooded, but damaged too. At 4:30 pm the traffic starts to move.
“Finally,” we sigh with relief.
We moved forward slow but steady and we believe the problems are fixed. We’ll be home for a late dinner. However, by 5pm we realize the police are moving the traffic up to a turnaround point and sending everyone back into Victoria!
We call our friends and they invite us over for dinner. By the time we arrive, I’m concerned about making my medical appointment in Nanaimo the next morning at 9:30am. Our friends suggest we take the ferry to Vancouver avoiding the chaos on the island. We could then drive to Horseshoe Bay, and take the last ferry to Nanaimo. We quickly check the ferry schedules, realize we can make the connections, and run out the front door, yelling our ‘good-byes’ as we jump in the car.
We arrive at the ferry terminal at 6:30pm, in lots of time for the 7:35pm boat. As we’re about to pay for the tickets, I ask the cashier to confirm that we’ll be on the next ferry. As she reaches for my husband’s visa card she says, “Yes, you’ll get the ferry, but they’re all two hours late!” He quickly pulls back the visa card.
The Vancouver plan is off the table that fast. We turn the car around and the radio informs us the Brentwood Bay Ferry service is offering round trip crossings every hour and ten minutes throughout the night. We head for the Brentwood Bay Ferry and arrived around 7:30pm in the dark and cold. I use my GPS to check the distance from our car in the lineup to the terminal – we’re 1.3 kilometres away. It has already been a long day – and it’s going to be longer!
About an hour later, a young family comes up to our car window towing a wagon lit up with tiny white lights offering homemade cookies and hot chocolate. Thinking of their kindness brought tears to my eyes. Next came a woman with water, then a couple with more water and snacks. We hear that the community centre is opened, equipped with drinks, snacks and pleasant smiles. Time passes and we discover washrooms are open at the top and bottom of Brentwood Bay hill. The hikes up and down the hill felt good.
A police officer is walking towards us and we call out to her, “Do you know what’s happening?”
“There are a hundred cars and large trucks ahead of you. The ferry capacity is twenty vehicles tops so you’re here for another five or six hours, maybe more.”
We’re prepared. We watch Christmas movies on Netflix via the cellphone, we eat a half loaf of fresh sourdough bread which is stored in the backseat, and share the remains of a chocolate bar found in my purse. We have our e-readers, a few magazines, and I have my knitting. We had tossed a number of coats for every type of weather into the backseat, along with hats and mitts, which keep us toasty warm. Around 2am a woman comes by with MacDonald burgers and extra water. An emergency team is going from car to car confirming that we’re all OK, asking if we need anything and offering warm blankets. There was no time to sleep, we had to move our car forward every forty-five minutes. We are well taken care of by all these generous volunteers. The 6:30am ferry arrives and we’re close to the front of the line. Two ladies drive off the ferry with Tim Horton’s hot coffee. We are thrilled! I feel sorry for the long lineup leading up Brentwood Bay hill, and extending beyond several corners, much farther than the 1.3 kilometers we endured that night.
I called the medical office and leave a message: I had to cancel. Minutes later, the office calls back to say they’d heard about the troubles on the Malahat and have fit me in for next week.
At 9:30am, Tuesday morning, we’re on the Brentwood Bay ferry bypassing the dangerous Malahat. We stop at the Garage Café in Duncan for coffee and the best breakfast sandwich ever. We arrive home safe and sound at 11:30am, 24.5 hours after we left the hotel. 24.5 hours living in the car! Normally, we would have been home in one and a half or two hours. There is no time to recoup.
Our grandson, Josh calls to say, “If you need any grocery supplies or fuel for the vehicle, go now because we hear they’re selling out on the island.” We don’t believe in stock piling but we do need several things and a few extras are likely wise. Later that day, a bath, hot homemade soup from our freezer with fresh bread and cheese, the last bit of my birthday cake and a Christmas movie in front of the fireplace end my beautiful birthday celebration.
Thank-you to all the volunteers, businesses and BC ferry staff who worked throughout the night of November 15th. And an extra warm and loving thank-you to the Brentwood Bay residents who came out to offer their caring hospitality. We never once felt alone, sad, hungry or cold. Despite the horrors on the late-night news broadcasts, there is still so much kindness and so many wonderful people in this world.
Article printed in Boulevard Magazine, pages 78-79, Spring 2022
Bio page 8
DOODLE DOG Mania on Vancouver Island
by Sharon Easton
Doodle dogs gather monthly in Parksville to hike along a local trail. Humans are invited too - how else would the dogs get there? The pooches race to the gathering crowd, saying hello to furry friends and favourite humans – wagging tails, sniffing, jumping and running in circles.
All dogs run free. The humans shout to get out of puddles but no doodle pays attention, they yell to keep away from the river, but the canines don’t listen to that either. They all play and run the trails, the pups, the full-grown dogs and the old timers too. But they don’t forget their people, often looking back at their two-legged family or running to the side of their human just to check in.
What a sight as hikers walked around the corner! Six or so doodles, all sizes and colors run toward them. The hikers laugh and greet this motley group of dogs and humans – they always stop to ask questions and rub behind the furry ear of a doodle or two. Time stands still, no one is rushed.
Sometimes a doodle takes a special liking to a new pooch she meets along the way, and off they’d go, but not for long – doodles are too attached to their humans to be distracted by some handsome strange dog.
The end of the trail comes too soon. The doodles sense it’s time to go. The pooches are tired but don’t give in – some jumped into cars with their furry friends not wanting to say good-bye quite yet.
The doodles are fast asleep the moment they hit the seat. They made little barking sounds dreaming of the fun times, furry friends and favorite humans.
And the doodle humans – what about us? Not one person had checked a text or peeked at their cell phones since arriving at the trailhead. Nor do they now – they’re too busy chatting and laughing about the doodle dog mania they’ve all just enjoyed!
Dedicated to our girls: Hazel and Gracie and the Doodle Dog Gang of Vancouver Island!
Doodle Dog Mania on Vancouver Island
Article printed in the Nanaimo and Voyager Magazine, page 35, March 2022
Image by Chuck Easton