December 29, 2025
Day 0: Home to Vancouver
Since we have once again booked our trip - flights, hotels, tours - from beginning to end, we have no room for anything unforeseen. The first possible unforeseen thing is the weather. Over the past two weeks, snow, rain, and wind has been causing many air flight and ferry cancellations. For us, the greatest risk is in not getting off our lovely island. BC Ferries, whose ships you would think are tough and waterproof, seems to cancel if there is a breath of wind or a drop of rain. So breaking with our reckless process of assuming all will be well and booking everything in advance, we headed for Vancouver one day early, just to be sure we would at least get that far.
Now strangely making double sure, we dragged our hapless friend Marius out early, so that if we missed the (one day early) ferry, due to traffic or something, we could still get a still one day early next sailing. It sounds crazy and inconsistent as I describe it now, but that is how it went.
Marius came out at 12:30, so we could be sure to catch the 3:00 sailing. He brought his fancy Audi e-Tron, an electric SUV, charged up and ready to go. But now, despite the "U" utility part of its name, the e-Tron took a look at the Grampies with their 1,2, ....8 bags and had a bit of a seizure. Marius had to cajole it, including giving poor baby Ferdinand's car seat the heave ho, to get us and the stuff in. This had me musing about how the two little old people were going to power this kit onto and off the ferry, up the stairs of the 620 bus, and then walk it all 2 km through the night to the Abercorn Inn. (The Abercorn was our clever idea for not having to make the whole journey to the airport in one day.)
Once loaded, the eTron of course glided us in luxury to the ferry drop off. We felt guilty making Marius drive out all that way, but we know from our own EV, that the ride is so quiet and soothing it is not much more stress than sitting on the sofa. And when our EV was as new to us as the eTron is to Marius, I would look for errands, just to ride in the thing and maybe listen to the array of Bose speakers.
The fun of course began when Marius deposited us and the gear at the terminal. We had never actually practiced moving it all. But we verified the count - 8 items - and grappled it with our four arms and two backs (totaling 6 - we had done this math before).
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The ferry has a luggage handling system, in which you can put your stuff on a belt at check-in and it will be delivered at the other end. But we had read that it has to be able to endure a 10 foot drop. No way the bikes were going on that! Still, we put our two duffels on, and one promptly got stuck. I went for help and an agent came back with something like a cattle prod. I mused that that would be good for hurrying along any slow moving walk-on passengers, and she agreed, practicing the thrust and parry that one might bring to bear. Our duffel was no match for this display of force, and soon off it went, presumably over the 10 foot cliff.
This is the point in these trips where we (and others, like the Classens) look out the ferry windows at the amazing beauty of Vancouver Island and the surrounding Salish Sea, and muse about why would we want to leave. This time they did still have the beauty out there, but they also had relatively dim light and a 1°C temperature. This time we did not have to muse for long.
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4 weeks ago
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Walking on and off the huge ferry involves some very long enclosed ramps. Marius had actually gotten us there somewhat in time for the 2:00 ferry, but after our duffels had headed off, the ferry staff told us to go, go, go, since we would be the last to board. This was the first challenge of the trip, as we huffed and puffed our loads up the long ramps. I was pleased that we made it, with no heart attacks, and I was anticipating how we would do in hoisting the heavy bags onto the 620 bus.
The 620 takes people from the ferry to a Skytrain station, from which there is a choice of going to the airport or into Vancouver City. Because of this role, it is timed to the ferry arrivals. But it is not timed to wait for the Grampies to trudge off that ferry and down the ramps, to pick up the "checked" luggage at the racks, and to buy the bus ticket at a machine (that never accepts your credit card). So we missed it. The next bus was timed for an hour later, when that 3:00 ferry we might have been on would arrive.
We piled our 8 items at the bus stop - and hey, we were at least first in line. In fact, the only ones in line, and we prepared to wait the hour, more or less in the cold.
Now Dodie looked over at a long line of taxis, who would also have to wait an hour for any possible customers to arrive. "What if we would go on one of those?" I was resistant to the idea, because first of all my phone gave the likely fare at $80, and secondly I was geared up for the bus challenge. So off I went to talk to a taxi driver.
In Vancouver, the majority of taxi drivers are from Punjab, part of a flow of immigrants many of whom had become established in the forest industry. The ones in our taxi line all mostly knew each other, and Punjabi was the working language of the operation. Mindful of the trouble the eTron had had with our gear, I walked down to the fourth vehicle in line, the first that seemed big enough to handle the job. The man agreed to come around to the bus stop and see about loading our gear.
Things were peaceful at first, but when the other drivers saw our man cutting the line, a lot of rapid Punjabi ensued. Another fellow left the line, with what seemed like a pretty skimpy Prius. He came to the bus stop and grabbed our stuff, tossing it quickly into his car. "Careful with those bikes!" yelped Dodie. I was pretty cool, because this was just like a travel story I had recently read, about a lady traveler hiring a cab at the New Delhi train station.
Surprisingly, the Prius easily absorbed our stuff, and we headed off, chatting with our triumphant driver about the Modhi regime, the forest industry and Sikh immigration, English as a second language, and hospitality we had enjoyed at a Sikh temple in England.
Soon we were at the Abercorn, a Chinese or maybe Indian run place, that simulates an old Scottish inn. Well, it did have the old part covered!
We were given the key card for our room, #205, plus a voucher for the much anticipated included breakfast. They had a trolley, which we trundled along to #205. I put the card in the door reader and burst into the room.
It was just about 5:00 p.m., so it seemed strange that the couple who were in the bed were in bed. They in turn must have felt it strange to be joined by a bearded weirdo in a high vis vest.
I beat a hasty retreat and returned to reception. So now we are in #206.
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3 weeks ago
Maybe we'll see my new friends at the breakfast. Or maybe they will not make it that long!
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