21, 22, 23 February

 21 February--

Time for  a change of scene.  I'm headed north to camp three nights at Cluxewe campground, a bit north of Port McNeill.

Having finally got the drawers in my camper fully functional (I had to cheat a bit and put gate hooks on one on which the latch doesn't work.), I booked three nights at the campground, and organised myself for travel.  The weather should be--more or less--ok.  It is, after all, still the end of February at the north end of Vancouver Island.  The forecast is for -15C with wind chill tonight. 

Got myself more or less set up and hit the road this morning.  The wind was biting, and showed in the Salish Sea off Qualicum Beach this morning.

I opted to take the Inland Island Highway north as far as Campbell River.  It doesn't go any further.  It's not as nice a drive as the route along the shore but I wanted to arrive in good time to make camp.  

North of Campbell River, the highway narrows, and the country becomes wilder.  Much of it is logged, but logged long ago, so that there are stands of second-growth timber.  The weather remained mostly clear, with occassional flurries.

I stopped for lunch (a bun with cheese, coffee and an apple) and an answer to nature's call at the Roberts Lake Rest Area.  Unfortunately nothing much in the way of photos, but sunny and warm enough to sit outside and enjoy my sandwich.  It has something I've never seen elsewhere--a pink porta-potty!  

A nice family drove up--currently living in Coombs, just north of Parksville, but both parents from Sointula, and both looking like the original Finnish settlers in that community.  A little girl (very much big sister)--seven, and a little boy, just three, but a very big three.  Mom carefully wiped down the picnic table to sterilise it, and gave the kids lunch.  Dad was a trucker--didn't seem politicised--but travelled the highway north regularly and warned me against ice on the road north.  Nice guy.  They were headed back to Sointula for Great-Grandma's funeral--she was 98.  Must be quite a community up there--must visit one day, masking the Swedish half of my family.  (Finns and Swedes don’t have a very happy  history..)

Made my way north--some snow flurries, but the road was ok.  It occurred to me that two years ago I was camped in Death Valley on Presidents' Day long weekend.  The contrast is striking.  I couldn't stop for photos on the snowiest bits--no place to park.  Took some photos at a rest stop--

A partly frozen lake.

And a snowy hillside.

Stopped for gas (oh dear oh dear what a price!) at Hyde Creek--on to Cluxewe.  Beautiful, but icy wind.  
 

Here I am.  It's brilliantly sunny, but nippy.  Should be fine;  I'm hooked up to shore power and have my little electric heater  keeping things comfy.  The plan is to stay put here tomorrow, take walks along the shore and into the estuary.  Maybe get a campfire going.  Then I  think I'll make my way to Alert Bay, on Malcolm Island, for a day and explore the U'Umista Heritage Centre which has regalia and other materials from the Kwakwakawak'w folks.   

And then make my way back to Parksville on Thursday.

22 February

(22-02-2022!)

A fine day.  Wakened early, and yes, it was cold, but the early light was spectacular.

(Photobombed by crows...)

The mountains are on the mainland.  I'm not sure (knowledgeable readers please correct me) but I think the massif in the upper photo is Mount Waddinton--the highest mountain in Canada, as I recall.) Dunno what the peak is in the lower photo, but it's striking. 

I took a long walk along the beach, to where the river makes its way into the Queen Charlotte Strait.  (I wonder if it still IS the QC Strait?  Many of the place names have returned to their original First Nations Names--right enough in my book.  Can't think why this part of the world should have names from 18th Century European royalty.)

It's a long beach, not unlike the beaches at Tofino and indeed Bodega Head in California, but different.  I didn't see a single scrap of man-made rubbish on the entire walk.   This is becoming really rare, in my experience.  No styrofoam scraps, no bits of plastic, nothing.  Lots of clam shells.  Some glass coral.  Pristine.  

I just find this so unusual, and so very blessedly wonderful.  NO RUBBISH.  Moreover I had the beach to myself.   I'm thinking back to the walk I took into the "Hole in the Rock" in Death Valley, just two years ago--I think it was similarly pristine.  Maybe I'll need to check the photos I took then.)

It isn't a particularly birdy season.  There were oystercatchers, and turnstones,

...And there was this, to me rather odd bird, making its way through the waves along the beach.

After inquiring with "What Bird?" it is indeed a female red-breasted merganser.  The beak doesn't look in the least merganser-like but sure enough that's what she is.  

I had a fire in the fire pit this afternoon, but it turned really cold so I'm now snug in my camper.

The little electric heater does a fine job of keeping my space comfy.

I'll try to organise myself for a trip to Alert Bay and the U'Umista Centre tomorrow, although the ferry schedule looks kind of awkward for this time of year.  I'd like to get home before nightfall to set up camp.  I'll report in tomorrow.

23 February

I had an early morning.  Returning from the campground washroom, I was struck by the light to the east.  At first I thought is was from one of the cabins in the resort, but indeed it was the morning light.

Unfortunately, I didn't manage to get to Port McNeill in time to catch the ferry to Alert Bay.  It will be there next visit.  

Instead, I did a bit of grocery shopping in the local supermarket, had a not very good omelette at a local cafe and set out to explore communities and roads on the North Island.

I'd always been curious to see Port Alice, which describes itself as the "gateway to the Pacific Coast."  It's a good road, not all that distant, with many little lakes along its way.  Much of the countryside is heavily logged, with second-growth timber along the way.

Port Alice was initially a logging centre, on a long inlet to the Pacific.  It remains involved in logging and, I gather, mining.    It's a very small community--one Protestant church, one Catholic church, schools, a supermarket, a RCMP outpost.   I found myself wondering what it would be like living in such a small place.  The idea doesn't really appeal, even though the inlet looks like it could be an interesting place to explore.

 I returned to Port Hardy, the biggest centre on the North Island, and visited its small museum.  (I must say, I always find the tools in the carpenters shop in these museums a bit disturbing.  They look just like the stuff my dad used.)

Headed south of Port Hardy to explore Fort Rupert, a Kwagiutl community with some quite fine carvings and a decorated longhouse.  Unfortunately, like many First Nations reserves, it's closed itself to external visitors for the duration of  COVID.  I did sneak a look at the longhouse (sorry, photo will have to wait), and the cemetery, which has some striking carvings. 

Then to a nearby beach, with views of offshore islands.  

The white in these photos are actually clamshell middens, apparently dating back 3000 years.  

On returning to Cluxewe, I found the offshore wind had finally dropped, and set a fire and sat and enjoyed the evening.

There were several loons offshore.  

This photo is rather curious--I couldn't hear any loon song, but this bird seemed to open its beak regularly.  Do birds yawn, I wonder?

And that was my time at Cluxewe.  I'll return, hopefully with enough time to take in Alert Bay and the U'Umista Centre.   It is indeed a wonderful place.  The woman at the check-in desk has explained "Gila'kasla" as meaning both "Thank you" and "Welcome," in the Kwaka'wakw language, which seems right to me.