Victoria is often described as being the most English of all Canada's cities. It definitely retains a strong British colonial feel, evident in the architecture of buildings like the Empress Hotel. There is a wealth of things to sketch, but my time in Victoria was busy and my sketchbook mainly stayed in my bag. Instead I painted my way through a pair of exciting commissions, and filled in a pile of much less exciting paperwork.
I managed a couple of quick drawings of the little water taxis which ply the harbour and the stag which reclined on the front lawn. One day we cycled into the city, past lovely beaches and views across the Juan de Fuca Straight to the USA and snow-capped Mount Baker. Once upon a time Mount Rainier was visible too, but is now unsketchable- Bill said that these days it's always obscured by Seattle smog. In the heart of Victoria I made the most of a five minute break to sketch the state legislature, and grabbed time for a few quick drawings of the totems by the museum downtown. A young heron in the park modelled for me beautifully, though the older birds in the nest above made me nervous- the white state of the pavement suggested that I shouldn't linger too long.
I managed to snag a few hours to visit the annual Moss Street Paint Out. The entire length of this street is closed to traffic for the day, as cars are replaced by hundreds of artists, many of whom were painting in situ. Maybe one day I can join them!
I knew I hadn't given the city justice, but I'm sure we'll be back and perhaps then I can explore more thoroughly. After dinner with Peter, Jen, Bob and Leslie- four cruisers who we first met up in Tofino- we hauled the anchor and sailed overnight to reach Steveston, just south of Vancouver. The grand plan was to be there for breakfast with Harold and Dan, two of Jim's favourite partners in crime.
Currents provide the greatest challenge to cruising between Vancouver Island and the mainland. Vast quantities of water enter the straits between the two land masses- and then gush out again when the tide changes. It's a bit like the passes of Polynesia's atolls- if there's too much water going the wrong way, you're going nowhere fast, as demonstrated by our experience the week before near Race Rocks. Jim had checked the currents and tides before we planned our departure. But the best laid plans can go awry- we thought we'd get a nice push as we sailed out of Victoria, but the current was no help and we pottered along at our usual 5.5 knots. Shortly after entering Active Pass the current was against us, and we had to hug the shore and use back eddies to make progress. Our chances of making breakfast became increasingly slim.
Things didn't get any better as we made our way to the Fraser River. Herons, eagles and seals provided a much needed mental boost as we struggled along, rearranging social engagements and wishing we'd had more sleep. Finally we chugged into Steveston's marina, tied up and went to find Dan, Diane, Harold, Jenny and some much-needed caffeine.
Steak pie and coffee at the Buck'n'Ear soon perked me up, and Diane managed to sweet talk the waitress into bringing me a pre-birthday slice of sticky toffee pudding. The British pub grub left me feeling appropriately ship-shape and Bristol fashion, and we had a great catch up, reminiscing about the various ways Jim, Harold and Dan got in trouble back in the day (thankfully they have Diane, Jenny and I to help them behave themselves now).
Steveston was a great town, with charming buildings and lovely walking along the dyke trails. We ended up extending our stay another night so that Jim could go and get into more trouble with the boys and I could stop and sketch. The buildings were tempting but the dykes really caught my imagination, with beautiful wildlife, intensely-coloured plant life and wide blue skies. Mountains fringed the flat landscape and I was spoiled for choice of what to draw!
Casting off the mooring lines, we headed north to Vancouver. This time the tides were on our side and Prism reached 9 knots as she smoked along the Fraser River. From there we puttered through English Bay to False Creek where we would be anchored for the next few days.
Vancouver is a vibrant city. Like any place with a large population, there are places you don't want to venture on a dark night (or even a moderately gloomy day), and the signs of homelessness and drug use were heartbreaking. But Vancouver has a lot of good points. Like Auckland and Sydney, you're never far from the water and there are lots of charming, arty neighbourhoods. And art stores. Yes, I was happy. We moored Prism at Granville Island for three free hours, had lunch and found the art store.
All too soon, it was time for Jim to drag me out of Opus (an art store big enough to get lost in). We motored a little further and dropped the anchor just a short dinghy ride from the city. Perhaps not the quietest of anchorages, but the traffic noise was tolerable and we enjoyed watching the daily parades of water taxis, dragon boats, kayaks, seals and floating barbecues. It was easy to get ashore and the city has a great bus network, so our first expedition was to the Museum of Anthropology at the university. We spent hours in the Great Room alone, surrounded by incredible First Nations carvings and learning about the history of the west coast. It was a sketching paradise!
Jim's niece Katherine and two of her friends joined us for the Symphony of Fire. This is an annual competition where three countries explode things to music over three nights. We motored out to English Bay. There were hundreds of yachts already at anchor, and a number of people who thought they owned the entire bay (“You can't anchor there! Your mast will get in my photos even though I'm a huge launch and tower above your deck!”). Eventually we dropped the hook and fell back to a spot where we were not annoying the overprivileged too much. The fireworks were spectacular, ranging from exuberant to beautifully subdued depending on the music. My favourites looked almost like leaping fish, with pretty showers of glitter a close second. I've come a long way since I was a small child who used to cry at the noise!
I was also lucky enough to meet Bob Altwein. He's a local urban sketcher who had offered to show us a bit of the city- he's also a very kind and knowledgeable man, and fascinating to talk to. He introduced us to Jesse, who is 24, not at all Millenial and sailing his 19' sailboat round the West Coast. We enjoyed dim sum, then a leisurely drive around the neighbourhoods of Chinatown and Strathcona. Cantonese-style buildings made Chinatown feel like I was back in Hong Kong, and Strathcona had a great feeling of community. The residents have worked hard to regenerate this area, which is green and full of neatly painted heritage buildings. We had coffee and delicious bakery treats at the Union Market- and were amazed to find that this charming little cafe and grocery was also very reasonably priced. No wonder it was busy! Jim and Jesse talked about sailing whilst I drew the cafe and Bob drew me. We were having so much fun that we invited Bob and Jesse to help us move Island Prism over to the Vancouver Rowing Club, where we were going to enjoy two nights of hot showers and Stanley Park.
After mooring and a hasty change of attire, we met Diane for a pre-birthday dinner at Prospect Point. It was a lovely evening, the mussels were amazing and suddenly we were the last diners in the restaurant.
The next day was my birthday- the dawn of a new decade (I think I'm still in denial). We celebrated with an adventure to Whistler. The drive along the Sea to Sky Highway flew by with an endless procession of gorgeous views. In Whistler, we bought lunch from the grocery store to eat on the mountain. $58 let us explore the lofty heights by gondola and chair lift. The views from the top were stunning on such a clear day, and the suspension bridge at the peak emphasised quite how high up we were. The Peak to Peak gondola took us to Blackcomb, with a great vista of the lakes and little town nestled far below us. It's almost tempting to come back in winter- so long as I don't have to ski. Jim also wants me to tell you all about the white wine cocktail he bought me. Bright pink and in a glass as big as my head- I was merrily 'trundled' (to quote my hubbie) as we got the bus back to Vancouver.
Stanley Park was our only real disappointment. On our previous visit I'd loved the totems and we'd spent a great day exploring. It seems like summer at 10 am is not the time to go- the tourist hordes had descended with selfie sticks in hand and all atmosphere had vanished. We cycled away from the crowds, but you're not allowed to pull over on the cycle path and take photos, even if no other bikes are coming (really- I got yelled at by a custodian when I tried). We didn't want to cycle the whole of the park but the entire cycle system is one way. Eventually we braved the custodian's wrath and peddled the wrong way to the Aquarium and its beautiful Bill Reid Killer Whale, before making our escape back to Prism and returning to the relative calm of anchoring at French Creek. At least the only people yelling at us there were the geese. A visit to the art gallery to spend a few hours gazing at Emily Carr's beautiful paintings was a good antidote to park insanity, and soon it was time to begin our journey north, up to Telegraph Cove.
An Artist Afloat- Painting the world one anchorage at a time.