A Dollar and A Suitcase

I always like knowing the background stories of a musician writing a song — it makes me understand and appreciate the song better. Recently, I caught this one on the CBC Vinyl Cafe and it hit me deep. 

In introducing this song, Ann said her grandmother immigrated from the Netherlands to Canada shortly after the Second World War and had a difficult life; so she developed a tough personality and had very little tolerance for people who are not tough. Her mother is a tough woman as well, but cries often. When her mother left home for university for the first time, Ann’s grandmother said to her mother: “If you don’t cry when you leave, I’ll give you a dollar.” Her mother tried really hard not to cry when they were saying goodbye and managed to make to her car without crying. However, as she was driving away, she started to cry. Then when she reached into her pocket for some Kleenex, there in her pocket was a dollar bill. In remembering this story, she wrote this song for her Oma.

From the BCCA 2012 Conference

“The secret of the care of the patient is in caring for the patient.” - Francis W. Peabody
“Although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of the overcoming of it.” - Helen Keller
“Education can sometimes educated the heart out.”
“I lost another battle, but the war is not over.”

Eva Grayzel, an oral cancer survivor as the keynote speaker for the conference, ended her emotional speech with this folklore:

There once was this good guy who did all the nice things in his life helping others. When he reached his time, he was given the choice of ending up above, or down below. He wanted to check out both places before making his decision. Over down below, he saw a big bowl of soup in the middle, all the people there were sitting around far away from the bowl and each had a very long spoon in their hands reaching the bowl. However, all of them looked frail, terrible, and suffering. Then he went up above, it was almost the same as he saw down below - a big bowl of soup in the middle, people sitting around far away from the bowl and each had a very long spoon in their hands. But the people there were happy, healthy, and jubilant. He wondered why... Then he noticed something different: the people down below all tried to get the soup with their long spoon to their own mouths, but the spoon was so long that by the time the soup reached close to them, it was all gone; the people up above did not try that, they simply scooped the soup out of the bowl and fed each other. When he was given the choice of where to go, you know what decision he made... 

Make a difference!

"Remembering today, and everyday."

Every year, the Remembrance Day services all look the same; but I want to be there, because they are also different, in small ways. No matter where I stand in the crowd, close or far from the cenotaph, I felt I was there -- like in a war. I saw people holding portraits of young men/women in front of their chests, I saw big man in Army uniforms weep, I saw veterans in wheelchairs in the cold rain -- just to be there. Today, the three men in front of me gave each other a pad on the back after the moment of silence, while fighting back emotions on their faces, in tears, and at the bottom of their hearts... Here is the poem from the Vancouver service today 11-11-2011:

THE WAY

by Hannah Naomi Williams

How dark the way is to me

I stumble, fall, grope and mutter

The sky above laughs at me

Birds peck, chirp, screech and whistle

Distant sounds to my ears

How dark my memories are to me

Of home, fire, warmth and faces

All whispering to me

Come back, come home return

But I cannot reach them where they are

How dark the land is to me

The earth is dark and cold beneath me

Frosty, unknown, foreign soil

My own country of trees and lakes

Far buried in my mind

How dark this pain is to me

It aches and overtakes my consciousness

Blood and thunder are well known

The Stench of rotting, life in death

When it’s quiet my ears still ring

How dark the fighting is to me

Courage has evaded me

I have no anger left for my enemies

I aim my gun in hope of life

But death is all that finds me

How dark the way is to me

I press on, my heart straining

I still live a miracle

Every breath is precious

So I wait and dream and pray for life

And this is the Vinyl Cafe Remembrance Day edition this year.

Crazy Ones

“Here’s to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They’re not fond of rules. And they have no respect for the status quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them. About the only thing you can’t do is ignore them. Because they change things. They push the human race forward. While some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do.” -- Steve Jobs & Apple

“Sometimes they were really dopey. Sometimes they were truly dreadful. But sometimes they took the air from the room, and they left us both completely silent. Bold, crazy, magnificent ideas; or, quiet simple ones, which in their subtlety, their detail, they were utterly profound. Just as Steve loved ideas and loved making stuff, he treated the process of creativity with a rare and wonderful reverence. He, better than anyone, understood the wild ideas ultimately can be so powerful - they began as fragile, barely-formed thoughts, so easily missed, so easily compromised, so easily just squished.” -- Jony Ive, talking about ideas in his tribute to Steve Jobs.

Will This Be The Day

Before Game 1 of this Final series, Ron MacLean was on ice level, one knee down. He talked about the quiet content guys choking in the corner celebrating after winning, soaking in all the emotions (like Dirk Nowitzki yesterday after winning his first NBA Championship.) He talked about how bad all of them want the ring that Glenn Healy and Craig Simpson have, not many others.

"In this life, we learn by example far better than we learn by words. And the learning by example runs deep. It's just a game. But you play it. Oh, you play it."

Best Sign from Game 5

Quotes from 50-Hour Wilderness First Aid Course

“Legally, you meet the standards. Ideally, you exceed the standards.”

“Pain never kills.”

“An expert is someone who made all the mistakes in the book, and learned a lesson from each of them.”

“It doesn’t matter what you know. What matters is the decision you make.”

“When something (bad) happens in the mountain, have a smoke.” -- German/Austrian

“Building an arm splint the fastest is not the best first aid. Assessment first!”

“How’s the pain, on a 1 to 10 scale, on your broken leg?”
“About 2. I’ve given birth to a couple of children.”

"The difference between a democracy and a dictatorship is that in a democracy you vote first and take orders later; in a dictatorship you don't have to waste your time voting." - Charles Bukowski

Shane Goes Against Current - It's Mean To Be

To celebrate the Super Natural, Best Place on Earth, Beautiful British Columbia Day, I decided to kayak around Gabriola Island in the Northern Gulf Islands area. A couple of videos shot by my friend Eric on his ferry to Salt Spring Island of whales playing around their boat fuelled extra motivation to me.

I left early on Friday afternoon, and surprisingly found a not-so-busy #257 bus going to Horseshoe Bay with almost no traffic on Georgia St. “It is a long weekend, right?!” I thought. Nevertheless, before boarding the ferry, I realized that I forgot to bring the fuel for my stove. What a disaster, especially with the fire ban across the province! I re-calculated what I brought and felt I could still survive with the cold food I packed, albeit starving for sure. So, I calmed myself down and the trip continued; hoping to get some fuel somewhere on the way. It was a pleasant ferry ride (without sighting of any whales...), during which I got into a conversation with a girl from France. She was visiting her boyfriend who works in Strathcona Provincial Park. She saw me studying the map and asked where I was going. She works for MEC, and told me all those benefits they have as employees. What a great place to work at! Arriving at Departure Bay in Nanaimo, I found the kayak rental place, Alberni Outpost, right by the ferry dock. I quickly finished the transaction, told them my trip plan, and loaded the boat. Since I didn't have too much daylight left, I paddled in calm water, with the sun setting behind me, to the nearby Newcastle Island. After setting up my tent and sighting some deers casually feeding on the lawn, I went out for a night paddle. The water was soothingly tranquil while the moon was rising. I could see the Coastal Mountains on the mainland, and the industrial waterfront in Nanaimo. My trip started beautifully.

On Saturday morning, the sun shined straight into my tent and woke me up. My plan was to paddle across to Gabriola Island and visit my friend, Ranza. Before leaving, I got into some problem with my tent: I drilled one of the anchor stakes too deep when I set it up the night before and it got stuck inside some tree roots. (Don’t ask me why I did that in a quiet windless night.) No matter how hard I tried, it wouldn't come out. Eventually, when I got mad and started being manly, I snapped a tent string and broke the stake. That’s when I gave up. The short distance (about 5 km) across to Gabriola wasn't easy. The wind was strong and I was constantly hit by 3-foot swells. After an hour, I arrived at Descanso Bay. Three bald eagles circling above in the sky welcomed me when I got out of the boat. I walked into the village, saw the local arts market, and luckily, found a building supply shop to buy a bottle of Methyl Hydrate as my fuel -- yay for hot food! I tried to call Ranza but the cell phone signal was very weak around the village. So I asked a friendly guy at the shop: “Where can I get some better cell phone signal close to here?” He looked at me, seemingly saying "where were you from" and "what do you want", and answered: “Nanaimo?!” Thanks, Island folks! I finally got through to Ranza’s home phone and she wasn’t there. It took us back and forth a couple of phone calls to set up the meeting at Descanso Bay Regional Park. After moving my kayak from the private property I invaded when I first landed on the island, I enjoyed a relaxing afternoon in the sun, reading my book before Ranza arrived. She took a swim in the water and we chatted for an hour. It was a short reunion but I was glad we met. In the evening, I headed out around the northeastern corner of Gabriola to my planned camping site at Sandwell Provincial Park in Lock Bay. On the way, I checked out the Malaspina Gallery, a stretch of unique sandstone formation that carved in at the bottom of the cliffs by water erosion. Many people jump from the ~15 feet high cliff above the eroded sandstones into the water. The water in the evening was flat and I made up the ground/water easily around Entrance Island into Lock Bay. It was a beautiful site for my tent right on the beach, looking east toward the mainland. After having a hot meal, I sat on the beach by my boat with the wine I brought. I could see the lights up on the ski hills (probably Cypress), and I even caught the fireworks in English Bay that night. After coming back, I heard it rained in Vancouver for about 20 minutes that evening before the fireworks; it was clear sky with stars and moonrise for me on the other side of the water. I dozed into my sleep listening to the waves pounding on the shore.

Sunday morning, I embraced some light drizzle as a refreshing taste from the blazing sun. A woman walking her dog on the beach greeted me: “Not too bad a place to spend the night, eh?!” Knowing that the majority of my trip was only starting, I set out on the water before 10:00, the destination was Pirates Cove Provincial Park on De Courcy Island, more than 20 km away. As expected, I was against the current and wind going southeast along the western shoreline of Gabriola Island. It took me more than 3 hours to reach the turn at Commodore Passage into Flat Top Islands. The reward was three seals lazily lying on the rock to welcome me at the entrance of the Passage. I found a beach and took a lunch break. Before going across Pylades Channel to reach my destination, I had to paddle through Gabriola Passage. The warning on my map said: “Max current 9 knots. Rips, turbulence.” Not until I reached that point did I realize waves might not be the biggest concern in sea kayaking. The currents were so unpredictable in the passage that no matter how hard I paddle, I was not moving forward. I was constantly being spun around in the whirlpools and pushed to different directions. Even when I thought I was out of the passage, a strong current knocked me back in and almost pushed me onto a concrete navigation light. It was a hard battle. Having enough of paddling for the day, I just wanted to finish, so I aimed straight to Pirates Cove across Pylades Channel, not 100 per cent sure if that was where I had to go. Gladly, after another 1.5 hours, I reached the point I was aiming at, and it was Pirates Cove Provincial Park. There was already a group of kayakers, two dads and daughters, when I arrived. One of them, Tony, was originally from Manchester and had a Solskjær United jersey on. That got us into a “friendly” conversation dating back to 1999 since I am a Bayern München fan. Of course, he wouldn't leave me alone without a few extra jabs replaying the 91st minute at Camp Nou in 1999 to me. The other father, Ken, was a seasoned kayaker and had good knowledge about ocean and currents. So, I consulted him about my route plan going back to Nanaimo the next day. It was a pleasure meeting them. I had to say the $5 remote camping site was a lot better than those $16 popular ones one can drive to. The outhouse was clean, it was quiet, and even had tent pads. Plus, to get fresh water, you need to use the hand pump -- when was the last time you used that?! The view? It’s BC view and BC wine -- You gotta be there!

Monday was my last day, but also the longest day. I had to paddle from Pirates Cove back to Nanaimo and catch the ferry back to Vancouver. The grand plan was to hit the water early in the morning and catch the current and wind with the high tide. I hit the water shortly after 8:00 as planned, but Mother Nature didn't want to cooperate. As soon as I turned around De Courcy into Stuart Channel, the wind picked up, into my face. To make things worse, I missed the turn (I thought it was too small between the rocks when I saw it from far and didn’t get close) going to east side of Link Island and Mudge Island. I was planning to take the longer, but safer route through False Narrows. Reluctant to turn back, I decided to challenge the notorious Dodd Narrows. Ken told me the night before that he wouldn't recommend going through there because when traffic was busy, it was like a “laundry machine”. My speed was OK against the wind and reached there around 10:00. I had to stop before going into the channel because I forgot to put on sunscreen in the morning before I left. Around 10:30, I ventured into the Narrows. That was when I perfectly understood why the veteran didn't want me to go through there alone -- it was such a narrow one-way traffic with all the boats wanting to pass through. I was lucky there were only a couple of boats crossing when I was there. So, I waited for them and had about 5 minutes for myself to crazily battle through the bloody currents and whirlpools. The Narrows was not that long, but I had to give my all. It was interesting that there was a guy relaxing on the rocks on one side of the Narrows watching me battle through it like a mad cow. I was happy to come out of that part safely because I thought the worst part of the long day was over, so I had a little snack break on the water. However, just when I restarted paddling, the wind picked up again in Northumberland Channel. And this time, it only got stronger. I was on the Gabriola side of the channel because I didn’t want to go through the industrial waterfront. When I needed to cross back to the Nanaimo side after the cliff area on Gabriola, the gale pulled out in its full strength, leaving me in 3-5 feet side waves to cross the channel. Then, everything I didn't want happened to arrive. First, a freight tow boat came into the harbour; good it saw me from distance and I made it clear that I would cross before it came in. Then, just when I had a clear view of the open sea, the Duke Point ferry arrived -- couldn't be better timing! I paddled close to it after it docked, and had to wait for about 20 minutes in the waves when I was very tired. The last few miles was excruciating. The gale wouldn't let up and gusted from northeast, pushing giant side waves onto my boat while I was going into McKay Channel. It wasn't even getting better after I entered Nanaimo Harbour inside Protection Island. Whenever I wanted to take a break and stopped paddling, the wind and current would push me back out. I was swearing constantly and had no fun in the end. When I finally docked at Brechin Boat Ramp around 14:45 after 6.5 hours straight in the boat, I was completed exhausted and had to pump significant amount of water out of the cockpit. I returned the kayak and took a quick shower from the water hose to wash out the salt accumulated on my arms.

I caught the 16:40 ferry back to Vancouver and bumped into a friend on the ferry. The chat made the journey shorter. When I went to a real washroom for the first time in 3 days, I saw the sever sunburn under my eyes that made my face like a panda. Looking back to the vast shorelines around Gabriola Island, I was proud of myself to achieve what I had been through in the past 3 days. Good there is a thing called effort and reward. Plotting my route on Google Earth, the total distance was about 56.7 km; with the zigzagging on the water, it should easily be above 60 km. Guess I could say to myself: BC Day well celebrated.

Epilogue: Combing back from this trip, I watched Andrew McAuley’s tragic story Solo: Lost At Sea again. I had more respect for the guy trying what he wanted to. I cannot fathom what he had been through in those 30 days; to make it worse, defeated in sight of land after 1600 km in the roughest sea. To put it into perspective, he was separated from his kayak 35 nautical miles away from Milford Sound in New Zealand; the 2-hour ferry from Tsawwassen to Duke Point is 38 nautical miles. Did he succeed in his mission? No. Did he cross the Tasmania Sea? Absolutely! When I get to Milford Sound one day, I will remember there lies a lost soul somewhere in that water where he loved deeply.

"I don't necessarily fear being afraid." -- Andrew McAuley

That Was A Year Ago...

Yesterday, I went to HI-Vancouver on Jericho Beach and we welcomed the Israel-Palestine United Co-ed team to our VISF. We didn’t speak the same language, but we played the same game and shared the same smile. (Kudos to them for that energy just after 14 hours of flight. Plus, they were very good football players.) I met some travellers at the hostel.

Today, while I was on Main St. for the Car Free Day festivities and checking out the clock, I suddenly realized it was exactly a year ago this time I was on the plane across the Atlantic. Then, a few blocks later, I met a photographer selling her works. I randomly asked her about one photo she took that reminded me something and she told me it was taken in Naples. So we started talking about our travel experience in that spooky city for a while.

Ahh... that travel bug starts getting itchy again...