I had a review of the blog and realised what a disproportionate vision a blog presents. It’s all very selective, and effected by mood, moment and short term memory. There is so much that’s been missed out, and an apparently random selection included. Obviously, I can’t document EVERYTHING partly because I can’t be bothered, and partly because it would bore you witless. People who know me well can also read between the lines.
So, in no particular order of importance or interest, here are a few extras from my diary:
I saw the flick of a humpback whale’s tail as the boat approached Sitka.
I gave myself food poisoning in Prince George and felt rough all the way to Prince Rupert, even though the views were very pretty.
There were wolves in Prince Rupert, I didn’t see them but I was told not to do one of the local park walks just in case they took a fancy to me.
I spent one evening in Sitka doing colouring in with the host, watching a movie and eating a bowl of M and Ms. All provided for me, including the use of glitter felt tip pens.
One of the artists I met on Haida Gwaii created a set of wonderful ceramic dogs embellished with gilt flowers, quizzical expressions and displaying prominent penis and balls.
Apparently, I don’t have much of a British accent which is why no one can tell where I am from. I’m not sure how I can sound much more British than I do…
Sometimes I have been very alone and not felt it, sometimes I have felt very alone.
I broke one of the plates at Premier Creek. It took me at least an hour at the thrift store trying to find a suitable replacement that looked exactly the same, even though none of the crockery matches anyway.
On the whole, people are nice and friendly. It doesn’t matter what their political or religious viewpoint is, you can probably get along. And they might give you free coffee; the free coffee tally now includes BC Ferries staff at 6.30 when the canteen wasn’t yet open.
By chance I met film maker Ellen Frankenstein. Although based in Sitka, Alaska, she had recently completed a film about Haida elder and master weaver Dolores Churchill. Tracing Roots is being shown at a major film festival in Los Angeles, soon.
A tiny, elderly lady on the old school bus/shuttle bus from the ferry in to Port Hardy couldn’t pay her fare until her husband got on because, as she said, ‘my honey has the money’!
I have no images to illustrate any of this, so here are some previously unseen highlights.