Sad But Glad

The usual happy smiling face got sad this morning.

As I approached my trusty steed, rain and all – I wasn’t prepared for where my eyes would land.

She wasn't all in tact. 
Missing was her stem and seat.

“I loved that seat!” rolled through my mind instantaneously.

Me and that seat, we’ve gone a lot of places together. Through country roads. Busy highways. Urban centres. Sidewalks. Bike lanes. Over bridges, sometimes boulevards. Into all kinds of weather.
In Toronto, Vancouver and Victoria.

Carrying my son when he was a babe. Commuting.  
We’d spent many an hour together. Even training for BC Bike Race (road).

You see, me and my Rocky Mountain Fusion, well, we’ve been partners a long time. 
Two decades in fact.

Thankfully there were two Kryptonite locks keeping her safe. One for the front wheel, and the other the back.

I rode what I could to school this morning. Locked her up as usual. She’ll have to stay parked till I can make it to a bike store for the stem and seat replacement.

For the rest of the day I was twanged with sad but then I felt the glad.

At least I still have my two wheels. 

The stem and seat were stolen at Stamps Landing outside Monks in False Creek.

Old Versus New

Vancouver's Hudson Bay and Scotia Bank buildings.

Young versus old. Same difference.

In an era dawdled with design I tend to enjoy the observation of the dynamic contrasts. Evident in places like Vancouver, Victoria and Toronto.

Those are those that I know. Which I have seen.

It’s the architecture of who we are today. Looking at the buildings of design especially.

Makes we wonder though, what has driven us to evolve as we have. Like the stacking of bricks. One on top of another.
Over time, our eyes of vision change. We begin to manipulate alternative genres to lay our focus.
Tomorrow will be different to today.

Yet we often hear, history repeats itself.

I enjoyed the following quote out my school textbook, Meggs’ History of Graphic Design by Phillip B. Meggs and Alston W. Purvis.

“The design of history is the history of design,” by Ivan Chermayeff.

The catapult of human expression?

Old versus new. 

Take your pick. 

For Sale: Affordable Waterfront Property

SV King Cyrus in Tod Inlet July 2010

It’s a true story. She's affordable waterfront property.

You can go wherever your heart desires and breath in the luscious sea air and enjoy the view. I love it. Have done for the last seven years.

Asking price was $60,000 (the insured value - recent survey available) - it's now the BEST OFFER closest to.

Time to roll on. I’m more concerned about my rusting road bike on the aft deck then I am about blowing up a bumper.

Sadly – both seem to be the case. The tarp flings back on the westerley’s unraveling the bike’s protective coat and well, I just haven’t got around to pumping up the flats. Fenders that is.

She’s been a labour of love. A passion of insanity, really. I’ve put my heart and soul into her. With the help of dear Uncle Len.

It’s all his doing. My 87 year-old retired boat builder of an Uncle. Lucky for me!

Uncle Len brought out of retirement!

Seven years ago I decided I needed more headroom then what I had. A 22 foot old wooden (plywood) Atkins designed sloop (sailboat with one mast).

Did some fender kicking with the local broker on the dock. Said I wanted more space, but didn’t want to shack up with a big debt. He found me “The King.”

Went to look at her on my own with the broker. Felt overwhelmed. She was in pretty sad shape. Full of junk. Rat poop. A derelict mizzen mast lay across the cabin top. I got the swift sale story. All fixable. Ha ha. If you know how I thought to myself.

So I invited Uncle Len for a visit. It’s a chippy December day. We amble inside. He stands in the galley. Takes his gloves off and peers up at me. I’ve got the creeps with all the stuff and poop inside. Wasn’t sure I wanted to gamble it again.

“You didn’t tell me she was an Angelman?”

Angelman, smangelman I think to myself. So what?

“This boat is made out of teak. Virgin teak,” he follows.

Teak, smeak I mull over to myself. What’s the diff?

“You could sail to Hawaii in this boat,” he concludes.

My ears perk up.

“Really…”

Now he’s got me thinking more seriously.

He does his fine tooth comb inspection. We depart and arrive to the transom. Broker long gone.

“She's got two of your names on her (Victoria and King),” he adds looking at me.

Later that night I lay stranded on my boat. I’m thinking early retirement. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a boat that size to graze on. It starts raining. Really hard.

I remember seeing a crack in the cabin and all of sudden find myself lifting up my aft locker and grabbing a spare tarp. I’m off to Fisherman’s Wharf where she sat to cover up the cabin.

It’s dark. I walk around the decks for the first time. Something feels oddly familiar. Kinda almost homey like.

I tussle her up and depart. Can’t stop thinking about her that night.

I decide I’ll haul her out to look at her bottom. For fun. We tow her round to Oak Bay. I am feeling pretty good at the wheel I have to say. She’s got weight. Feels like a ship of the sea.

Uncle Len declares a remarkable bottom for the age.

We do a further survey and I make an offer. A low ball.

Some hours later, much to my surprise it’s accepted. A steal really.

Over the years I’ve come to conclude, I have pretty high standards. When it comes to restoration. You have to do it right the first time or not at all.

So she’s in shape. Ready to sail away. New laundry would help. No question. First thing I did was put in a new motor. Under 500 hours on a 40 horsepower today.

I spent four years without refrigeration. She’s now got an icebox with a 12 volt. All the trimmings for electrical, new batteries, wiring, etc. New water system, pumps, hoses. Two large water tanks.

No oven though. The old one was for Barbies. The space too small for the new models. I’ve spent years with a convection oven at the dock (do all my Christmas baking) and a propane camp stove two burner. Of course the flush aft deck is perfect for barbecues in the summer. When it comes to rafting she usually ends up in the middle. The party boat.

There’s been many a dinner around the table. Eight no problem.

She’s a ketch (two masts, tall one in the front). Built in 1967. Designed by Hugh Angelman himself. After the Sea Witch designs. Maybe a Sea Spirit – her beam is 11’ 6”. She draws under five feet. With the bow sprit and davits she's 41'.
Spins on a dime. Takes the seas beautifully. And has been my home for my hat for truly seven years.

If you’re interested in seeing her or viewing more pictures you can email me at janevictoriaking@gmail.com.

In Victoria, British Columbia, Canada this old sailboat is what you call affordable waterfront property.

With character I might add!

Sunrise leaving Cowichan Bay February 2008

Bwera Bound

I take up an opportunity to visit PODA’s project in Western Uganda near the Congo Border with Peter and Natalie Hunt and number of other fellow Canadians. We departed Dec. 2. The next few posts are a catch-up due to lack of Internet access.

Alongside the tea plantations

I left my computer behind. Hope I have enough warm clothes. There’s eight of us in a 10 passenger Toyota van. We’re off. Two wheelchairs on top. If you opened the aft hatch too much would fall out. It’s a seven and a half hour trek. That we know. Bye bye Kampala.

First stop, the drum vendors. On the side of the road. Barter, barter. Some are drunk. We get a bass and a treble sounding one each. By 11 a.m. we’re passing white circles. The Ugandan markers for the equator. The usual amount of produce is sold generously at the sides of the road. A guy walks out with a string of fish as we drive by. We’re near a lake. As we travel further west the density of foliage becomes richer. We see a boda-boda with a speed wobble. No, it’s two people with three goats.

Lunch is a stop in an Indian style restaurant. Here I learn of a wedding celebration on Sunday. Pete and Nat’s. African style. I feel honoured to be able to attend. Apparently the sacrificial cow is already standing by.

On our way again. Another stop by the traffic police. Nat’s driving now. He asks for her International Driver’s license. She says it’s not in her purse but in the back. In English with a accent he explains the importance of having your license next to you when you’re driving.

“When you have a gun – you keep it by your side. Why do you not?” he insists and waves us on.

This after he asks why is it that “she” is driving?

A tea plantation in Western Uganda.

As dusk slopes down we make another stop to photograph the tea plantations. Spectacular. We then cross through Queen Elizabeth Wildlife Refuge. And halt for elephants. Pete caught them in the corner of his eye. More speed bumps, they’re everywhere. Then baboons. Funky faces. Curious.

I ask Pete and Nat why Bwera? They’re tangled with a group called Cobra to build a secondary school.

Pete met Nelson, the on-site project lead for Cobra at Mengo Hospital. Nelson was a guard. He invited him to Bwera to visit his family. That was six years ago.

We arrive at dark. The locals greet us in broken English with “You are welcome.”

The tool shed is then laid out with a tasty African dinner consisting of cabbage, sweet potatoes, beans, g-nuts, pineapple and melon.

Our tent is raised and Colleen (also from Victoria who only arrived to Kampala yesterday) and I are home.

The stars are deep in Bwera. It feels peaceful here. I look forward to the rise of the sun to seep in the surroundings and the progress of the school.

How is Your Life?

“Do what you like, but like what you do,” dear old dad used to say.

I contemplated those words today as I walked the streets of Kampala. What if you did what you did because you had to? Suppose you didn’t have a choice?
No way out.

One of my housemates at Mengo Hospital, Kelly, also from Victoria and myself came across a young boy lying face down on the street. He was sleeping in the shade. On the cement. In bare feet.
We’d seen him there the day before. Hand out. Looking for money. As we pass by Kelly invokes an earlier conversation we’d had around poverty. The issue of HIV amongst the less serving.  The high incidence of the incurable disease amongst the poor.

Together we theorize the way out of the HIV/AIDS crisis in Africa is to end poverty. But how? Africa’s not the only continent with poverty issues.

As we scurry past him Kelly remarks if she had Abbey, the leader of the African Hearts’ contact information – she could of given it to him. Abbey has assisted many young boys leave the streets and find hope and family for their future with the help of music.

Good idea I say. I totally agree. To show him a new path. To find a new road to travel on. One without a hill or any speed bumps.

I’ve been contemplating the income generating ideas HIV mothers have grabbed onto. Basket and mat weaving is one. Beads for necklaces another. Sewing up clothing and bags.

Why can’t Africa become the next China for manufacturing? Give somewhere for this young population to grow into.

Next week I travel to Bwera to help out with PODA (Partnership for Development Association). They’re building a school.

I have heard from Natalie and Peter that one of their plans is to build an area where the women and girls can hang up their laundry. Because when the women menstruate they can’t go to school. They don’t have access to the sanitary napkins and tampons as such as we do in the developed countries. So they wanted to make sure they had an area private where they could hang their laundry. Without shame.

Since my son was born, I’ve been using Luna Pads during my cycle. To cut down on garbage and they’re recyclable.

I show one to Natalie. She asks if I can bring it to Bwera so the women can make a pattern.

No problem I think to myself. How easy it would be for them to make them. No more missing school. A possible income generating project?
Perhaps. But more importantly. A road for opportunity. So when one asks “How is your life?”

The reply will be, “Perfect.”

A Sunday Rest

Took a day off today. It felt great. I did what most people do.
Got up. Read the paper. Made breakfast. Had a shower. Did the dishes. Put the laundry away.
Son came over for a visit. Then, we left the dock. That is the boat moved away from dock and we motored out of the Inner Harbour (yyj).
That’s when the fog bank rolled in. So much for the cruise to Oak Bay.
Still had fun though. We had views of the Royal Princess cruise ship coming in. Monster big. Cool to see away from the pier. The bro motored by on the newest whale watching vessel on the coast. Huge wake with her.
Later we did the peep show around the inner Inner Harbour. Apparently a classic car show on in front of the Legislature. We float by gawking. Basking in the glory of the day.
We bang back into home and the Holistic Sailor www.holisticsailor.com/ announces there’s an impromptu Q happening at the end of the dock. How lovely. Perfect I get to hang with my neighbours. All great people.
Now I’m thinking, can tomorrow be another one like this?
Zip, zap not a chance. Back to work I go. It’s all good though. I’ve got breaths of fresh sea air stowed away in my lungs. How lucky am I!

Future Free

Since my son was old enough to understand, I told him if he started smoking I’d kill him. As he grew up whenever I said that he got a little cocky and declared, “That’s child abuse you can’t do that.”
All joking aside, I wanted to instill in him smoking is not on. Now that he’s 18 years-old I’ve given him another threat.
“If you get caught abusing alcohol I’m putting you in the army.”
To which he replied, “Ryley wants to join the military and wants me to join with him.”
Humph I think to myself. That didn’t quite get the response I thought it might.
I am one for setting boundaries. For sure. Loosely. I’m also one, as a mother for cutting the strings as early as possible and placing one said boomerang in one child’s head. Get out there. Get going. Don’t catch your shirt tail on the door on the way out.
When said son claims boredom I think to myself, what do you expect you live in Victoria (British Columbia, Canada)? No disrespect. I was born here. I also left here in my teens. First for Europe. Later for Toronto, then Vancouver.
When number one says “I’ve gotta get out of here before I loose my mind!” my heart sings. Hallelujah – you’ve got it dialed. Time now to find your future. Run boy, run. Don’t hide. Go. Go anywhere. Go now!