3. The Thyme of My Life

Chapter Three: Another happy landing

“The things that happen to us do not matter; what we become through them does.” Sri Gyanamata

Davina wakes up, showers, eats breakfast, takes the bus to town, buys food, comes home, eats and goes back to bed. Sounds like a smooth ride right? Like everything went according to plan.

As I had been observing from my vacation so far  (and as the next few days emerged), things don’t always go according to plan. On the first day I’d missed a ferry and then locked myself out. But, I was in vacation spirit and going with the flow was becoming pleasurable.

Sometimes it’s those bumpy rides in life that take us to better places, even though it might not seem like it at the time; they keep us well seasoned and awake. With practice, we learn to go with the flow and realize that time emerges of it’s own accord, whether we are on board or not.

As Betsy Wuebker from Passing Thru says, “Sometimes our biggest breakthroughs or rewards come when we stop trying so hard, and surrender to a force, which, I believe, has greater gifts in mind for us than we could ever imagine.”

Stepping into rhythm

The light in the room was dim at 7 am and I lifted my head to peer through the shadows. That precious curtain of trees was standing by in the early dawn hours, holding the space between the earth and sky. Rooted. Consistent. I rolled over and slept until nine. Ah, pure luxury.

Later, I rushed to make coffee after noticing rays of sunlight streaming into the solarium – yoga would wait – the sun wouldn’t. I’d be “saluting the sun” in my own way this morning.

While the coffee was brewing I admired the artwork on the walls. Then, busied myself with raising the curtains I’d closed the night before. Six windows and long strings I had to patiently wind around tiny hooks, pausing to untangle the knots that seemed to come from nowhere.

Breakfast in the solarium was surreal as the sun pelted down, filtered through the glass ceiling. The garden outside was alive with rich earthy green foliage that turned a welcoming face towards the sunlight. I was captured by the stillness yet again.

I sipped coffee, basking in the entire experience until thoughts of the two-hour Killarney Lake hike I’d planned turned my attention to other things. I remembered I still had to take the bus into town to buy groceries and after having finished a half bottle of wine last night, I’d need more of that too. So Killarney Lake would have to wait.

My wait for the bus was an impatient one because I was anxious to get the trip over with and return quickly. After 15 minutes I was pacing back and forth, aware of the time passing away and me not going anywhere. “Killarney Lake. Killarney Lake.” With each passing moment the day was unfolding and my plans were seeming to unravel.

I sat at the back of the bus and enjoyed quite a wild and bumpy ride, feeling slightly nauseous after 10 minutes. I was determined to stay put in spite of the nausea because I liked sitting at the back of the bus.

My sisters and I rode at the back of the school bus when we were in public school. In the early fall I’d watch coloured leaves chase after the bus as it whizzed along the country roads. In the spring we’d bounce around as the bus skipped over potholes.

There was a really good bump at the top of one hill. When the bus hit it you’d fly out of your seat a few inches. One time I flew so high that I crashed down hard and cried out in surprise. The bus driver gave me a stern look in the rear view mirror. The next day I was back in the same seat anticipating another run at that bump.

Today, I had one hour to shop in Snug Cove and the Ruddy Potato was my first stop. My vision of finding a halibut or salmon fillet was not to be, so I settled for scallops, chicken and more lamb.

With time to pass before the next shuttle, the cashier sent me on a wild goose chase to find an Internet café. I’d left my laptop at home in Kitsilano and thought it would be fun to visit Twitter while I waited for the shuttle; to tweet live and in colour from Snug Cove.

Alas, I was disappointed to learn the Friendly Italian coffee shop no longer had an Internet café. Instead I chatted with the lovely man behind the counter. He had gorgeous curly hair and one of those faces that smiled even when he wasn’t smiling. He was practically glowing — a well-seasoned Island Man.

That’s the ticket

There were two passengers on the bus. I sat in the seat behind the driver, who I assumed had again gone for a cup of tea. When I turned around to say hello they nodded and smiled. “Do you have a special ticket?” The man asked.

I waved my yellow ticket and replied, “I have the usual TransLink ticket. You can use it here, as well as on the Mainland.”

He showed me his ticket, telling me it had expired.

“Oh, but you can still use it.” I shared the secret I’d learned a day earlier, and then added smartly, “This is Bowen.” That’s what the locals say.

He looked doubtful and I assured him, “She let me use mine yesterday and it had expired hours before. They give passengers a lot of leeway because this bus runs so infrequently.” Then I put my hand up to my mouth and whispered slyly, “But don’t tell her I said so.”

Sure enough, when she returned he showed her their tickets and I pretended not to eavesdrop. It was one brief awkward moment; what if she’d made a liar out of me? He turned and gave me a knowing glance as he returned to his seat.

The ride home seemed shorter than I remembered, despite making extra stops to pick up and unload more passengers. The bus stopped midway to let a couple off and there in someone’s backyard were three deer.

They were beautiful. One of them turned to look back at us and then nonchalantly continued grazing and pawing in the grass. I was fascinated. Of course I’d seen deer before, but usually in a fleeting glance as they disappeared into the forest with nothing more than a flash of their white tail.

The bus driver announced, “If you can catch ’em, you can take ’em home, for free.” They barely noticed the bus and continued grazing even after the passengers unloaded and the bus pulled away. “They might just as well have been horses,” I thought to myself.

By the time I got home with my groceries and had lunch it was almost 3 pm. A Killarney Lake hike was fast fading from the plans, considering I’d have to catch the bus back towards Snug Cove. I was not too upset: “Mount Gardner. Mount Gardner,” I thought instead.

So, I climbed the hill towards Mutiny Road and access to the Mount Gardner trails. My virgin hiking shoes were about to get dirty.

Chapter Four coming soon.

Tagged as: BC Bed and Breakfast, Bowen Island, Vacation