Think of all the ways, momentary phase, just like yesterday I told you I would stay.

In the pocket of God....

Aug 22/ 2011

The bus ride began as usual, winding through the jagged city and pulling onto the unrolled black tongue of highway stretching north. Just past Campbell River, the texture changed, buildings were replaced with thick choppy branches. The forest was like liquid, verdant liquor for my eyes, the trees kissed with patches of cloud. I just soaked it all in and revelled in the slowly-diminishing civilization. Got into Port Hardy around 5:30pm and Annie picked me up in the skiff. I donned a red survival suit and we steered the little boat through the water, heading north. Found out Annie's ex-mother-in-law is my Mom's landlord on Hornby. A stray porpoise leaped in front of us, slicing back through the cold water as we pushed through the ocean between fog-smoked islands. Then, the resort.....it's just beautiful. Rustic. Away from it all. I'm in love. We had a wonderful dinner of roast chicken, yam, caesar salad and turnip, then Claire showed me around the kitchen and how to do some of the work. Later, we all retired with a beer on the deck and watched the phosphorescence. They were so active we didn't even have to touch the water, they twinkled like stars beneath the surface. Of course, we took sticks and stirred them into a giant boiling cosmos and Trevor pissed off the dick making a thin line of them in the water.

I am in heaven on Earth and I'm going to soak up every minute of it.

August 23/ 2011

Another day in paradise! Had a call from Julian today. I asked him how he found the place and he said, "I listen." Well that's refreshing! Got up at 6:30 after a restless sleep and read on the dock while the sun tickled the sky into pastel shades. Breakfast was hard boiled eggs; sausages; fruit; granola; oatmeal; yogurt; and fresh-baked, still-warm muffins. Afterwards, the group went out on their first dive. I've been speaking minute bits of what's left of my high-school french to these lads. They are all the way from France, the real thing.

After lunch we went for a sail around Hurst Island. Saw some porpoise and big fishing trollers. The Netherlands-run fish farms were tucked into bays on surrounding islands and they looked artificial, out of place. Swells from the Pacific Ocean rolled under the boat, lifting us to the sky and gently letting us fall back down. I'm resting in bed now, listening to the cackling of gulls and the purr of the wind turbines. Tomorrow is my first day working alone.

August 24th/ 2011

Outside, the milky way is like a trail of sweat across the brow of the sky. The stars remind me of Hornby: cold-lit and packed thick and dense into the womb-like sky. Today started off busy and I was a tad overtired. Up at 6:30 to prepare the dining room for a breakfast of frittata and potatoes. The Hurst Isle went out for two dives so I had time for dishes, tidying, cleaning the rooms and setting up for a lunch of sushi and miso soup. There is lots to do here but none of it is hard work. I danced and sang around the big table while folding sheets today. We had a group of kayakers come in and I served them coffee and tea and we all had a good chat. More guests arrived after lunch, a slightly-high-maintenance couple and their dog, Tuti. Tuti is aloof and unaffectionate as the dog of filthy-rich owners should be. There is also a group of researchers from the Department of Fisheries and Oceans staying here and tracking Orcas throughout the day. Dinner tonight was magnificent: pork shoulder on the bbq; orzo salad; green salad; green beans; peppers; spaghetti squash and crepe du banane for dessert. The table was a bit crowded with nineteen people so I didn't sit down to eat. Saw a kingfisher today and watched loads of eagles and seagulls attacking bait balls out on the water. Going fishing tomorrow.

August 25th/ 2011

Mmmm, I smell like fish! After breakfast, Trevor and I took Bossy (the smaller boat) out to fish. Saw some sea lions bobbing around the kelp beds and snorting into the air. We went around the point evading the fog bank and cast our lines into the water with herring for bait. It took a short while to get any bites, Trevor was out for salmon but we caught a rock fish instead. T killed it, I couldn't bear to. Held it afterwards though, feeling it's heart beat and nerves twitch beneath the taught, wet skin. It was a bit weird catching something from the ocean and ending it's life within seconds... I couldn't think too hard about it. I thanked the fish and the ocean, knowing we would use it for food. Travelling back, the fog caught up to us, surrounding the boat, wrapping us in it's wet smoke. Sea spray sparkled on my arms and sat on my eyelashes casting prisms into my line of sight. Back at the dock I carried the fish in and Trevor showed me how to gut it. I was fascinated with the insides and spent ages looking at them before tossing them in the bay for the rat fish. I also removed it's eyeball and was messing around with it. Got vitreous fluid all over myself trying to get at the lens inside. Eventually hauled it out, sparkling like a marble, and rolled it around in my palm before returning it to the sea. Trevor filleted the fish and fried it with salt and pepper and it was absolutely delicious, soft and slightly crisp around the edges. Tasted slightly like halibut, the delicate freshness of flavour was unreal. Afterwards we climbed up 'Lil' Mountain' behind our cabins and watched a lovely big sail boat cruise past. We hiked back down so Trevor could start dinner while I caught up on some emails. Whilst in the dining room, a small bird flew in from outside and we had to chase it around as it shat everywhere. We got it in a tea towel and it sat in my hand, panting in terror before flying off. Poor little guy.

August 26th/ 2011

Slept in til 8 today, thought I'd never say that! Did the usual brekkie routine then walked to Duck Bay. It was so peaceful passing through the forest by myself, following deer trails between skinny rough-limbed trees, almost bouncing on the impossibly soft soil cradling my feet. I wound through the woods, coming out at a clearing above a midden where a fire pit lay forgotten and scarred by soggy ashes. The midden overlooked a small bay and I sat for a while, singing out loud knowing not a soul could hear me and no one in the world knew exactly where I was. On the way back I found a geological survey marker and pulled it out of the soil to look at it. Put it back after reading "Imprisonment up to 7 years upon removal'. Carried on back to the docks. Annie and I had done some grout work around the fire pit earlier and two women were huddled over it cleaning up our disaster when I got back. I had a two hour Skype date with Julian before a dinner of halibut caught fresh by the DFO. After supper I had to run up to the laundry room and on my way back my favourite Frenchman pointed to Tuti, said 'dog', then pointed off the dock and said, 'water' and made the motion of tossing the former into the latter. I nearly pissed myself. Annie and I took Bossy out this evening over to Balaclava Isl. to say goodbye to her friends who were leaving their summer cabin. We then went down the island a bit to see her son Crey who is staying on Annie and Bill's newly-bought property. The property is amazing, I want to move in. There are a couple cabins, a woodshed, and a platform for tents being built overlooking the pass. Connecting all the buildings and winding amongst the spongy land and dense forest is a erased wooden walkway, like a forest boardwalk. Like something out of an ewok village. I fell in love all over again and have basically decided I want to spend the rest of my life outdoors.

August 29th/ 2011

Holy hell what a busy day. I should really be sleeping but I have too much to write and it can't wait another day. Yesterday was the last day with the Frenchies and it was the night before changeover so everyone was drinking the last of their liquor and having a good time. Trevor and I went kayaking earlier, just around the bay, scaring seagulls and ramming ourselves through beds of kelp. Crey and his friends came over from Balaclava for dinner and Crey and I smoked a bit... I kicked myself for not bringing Catherine's cookies. I got pleasantly high and drunk in time for the Frenchies to put on a slide-show of their photos from two weeks of diving. I was utterly blown away. I have never seen such surreal beauty in my life. The pictures were out of this world, I can't even begin to describe the range of colour, the depth of texture and the array of seemingly-alien creatures these divers had seen. After the show, some of us hung around in the clubhouse drinking until eventually it was just Trevor, Crey and I. Some Appleton's was busted out and by wish we were all knackered. I walked up to my room and crawled into bed hearing the rain start up. Staccato patterns on the tin roof make an acoustic background to the beauty I observed outside my window. As the waves licked the shoreline, veins of phosphorescence bloomed along the rocks.

August 31st/ 2011

Disadvantages to 'feeling' your way back to your cabin after work: walking knee-first into a goddamned ladder and if I find who left it there I'll drown them!

Today while doing laundry, Annie called up to me from the lower deck. I walked down to find her holding a Puget Sound King Crab which looks like some sort of hairy warrior of the sea. Salmon-tinged with dirty-yellow highlights, it's body and legs were of such odd angular proportions it looked as if it's pieces snapped together like a child's mechanical toy. It was both ugly and beautiful, claws churning the air and antennae swirling. Annie dropped it gently back into the water and it sank slowly, smoothly, it's awkward for finding ease of movement in the buoyant ocean. After lunch today a sail boat drifted into the bay and nobody seemed to know who it was. Turns out to be two gentleman, Robin and Bob. Robin Percival Smith is the inventor of the morning-after pill and a large contributor to early birth control development. He has also been published and Volker from the DFO crew happened to be reading one of his books at the time. More coincidence. After dinner, Bill and I went on a slop run to dump all the organics into the water for the crabs and gulls. I actually got to drive the boat, steering out into the open ocean and even manoeuvring it back into place beside the dock. Apparantly I'm a natural.

September 2nd/ 2011

Was just woken up at 6:45 am by Annie knocking at my door and saying, 'Orcas in the pass!' I rushed around looking for my glasses then popped outside in my pi's and saw the most incredibly breathtaking sight in my whole life. Tons of orcas, over fifty of them slicing through the water heading south. Groups of all sizes of fins arcing gracefully, some even breaching out of the ocean and slapping their tails producing a hearty, wet crack that short across the bay and resounded along the decks as we all watched in awe. I felt like a small child, exclaiming aloud in utter wonder, I was so moved I was in tears. What an absolute gift, a privilege and a blessing to see such a rare glimpse of nature's beauty. I'm the literary form of speechless right now, partly from the early hour but mostly from the effort needed to process what is surely one of the most incredible sights I've ever laid eyes on. It's sure hard to remember that these great mammals are endangered when a massive pod swims by your window heaving themselves out between the waves and puffing air into the sky. It inspires me to want to do something to preserve such opportunities as this. I can't, nor do I wish to imagine a time when what I saw is not a possibility. The Roller Bay (DFO) crew is positively ecstatic. The emerged from their rooms beaming, eyes still half-closed but shining with excitement, and practically skipped down the ramps and out to their boat.

The rest of the day went splendidly. Once the Hurst Isle left, Annie and I got down to cleaning up but took a break to crank music and dance on the deck. At first, I tensed up at the thought of dancing completely sober. Silly, I know. I loosened up though and joined Annie, throwing my arms into the air, spinning in circles. It was so freeing to just not give one single shit about what you were doing. Liberation at it's finest. After the group went out for the second dives, I took a kayak out and paddled around the edge of the island. The water in the pass looked rough so I kept to the coast. I saw a big jellyfish, looking like an intricate, tendriled ball of snot. I tried to take a picture of it but it kept bobbing away. I went to put my camera back and saw a deer swimming between a smaller island and the shore of Hurst. A young male, he came out of the sea rumpled-looking and I paddled right up to him and took his picture as he eyed me passively, looking almost bored with my presence. I paddled back and got in just as Annie arrived with our temporary chef, Sam. She is lovely and I had a feeling I would like her before I even met her. I lifted myself from the kayak as they pulled in and I saw a buzz of dark curls sprouting from the head of a girl my height and I got an immediate feeling of familiarity, of fate. A common feeling in God's Pocket.

September 6th/ 2011

Here we are with a new group all of whom are pretty wonderful. Over the last little while I've learned how to drive a boat; I did a six-hour record changeover; saw a small red octopus uncurling itself in the shallow waters below our dock; and fallen ever deeper in love with life and this extraordinary place. Today, Sam and I hiked up Meeson Cone, it was breathtaking. Views of the pass and small islands freckling the azure waters. Cruise ships dwarfing their surroundings like behemoths in a bathtub. It was so exhilarating to stand on the peak, 167 meters above sea level and look upon the sky with gratefulness and adoration. Clouds clung like spiderwebs to the dome of blue above me and as I stared at the mountains they changed colour the farther I looked, each bathed in a watery green. Climbing down I was pretty pumped from the card, something that's a little difficult to come by here, and I jogged most of the way, slipping once into thigh-deep mud and hurting myself yet again. There's an angry red scrape down my calf, a war-wound from battling the mountain. Back at GP I was so sweaty and invigorated I though there would be nothing better than a dip in the ocean. Twice in for thirty seconds was more than enough; it was fucking COLD. Refreshing, though, hence join in twice. Annie's cousins are here from Austria, they're quite lovely, Monica and Marion. Marion looks like a typical Swiss-German, all legs and blond hair. Quite cute! I say cute instead of handsome as he's only eighteen. They are sleeping in my room so I'm bunking with Sam. It's nice to have the extra body warmth but not so nice when her alarm goes off at ten to five.

September 10th/ 2011

Yet another awe-inspiring day in GP. The other day I saw a humpback whale cruise through the pass: incredible, does no justice for it's true size when you only see a small crest of grey poking out of the water, but it was amazing nonetheless. Last night Sam and I sat on the dock drinking wine and talking and we saw a few orcas swim by. They were making the usual noises, bursts of water and air from their blowholes, but also there was a sort of whine, almost like the sounds of air blown over the top of a bottle. It was very eerie and I later learned they make this noise when in distress.

Today as I was cleaning a kayaker came up and I really wasn't in the mood for another holier-than-thou rich leisure-ist so I ignored them for a while. Then, poking my head out the door of a cabin I saw a young man dressed only in shorts, with long dreads hanging past his shoulders. I had a good vibe just looking at him so I went down to the dock. I waved and said hello as I approached and he seemed a little distressed. I asked him if he was looking for a cup of tea or anything and he said, "Actually I just wanted someone to talk to," and became quite emotional. I could see a strain in his voice, tension bulging at his shoulders. Turns out, he's from the States where he is studying a major of his own invention, something to do with wilderness survival and traditional survival methods. He is being sponsored to go on this solo kayak trip and write a book about it. He had no tent, no sleeping bag, no tarp and only deer-skin clothes. He had made his own kayak, all of his tools, and carried his water in hollowed-out gourds. I immediately went into caregiver mode and stuffed him full of muffins, baclava and rice kris pie squares. I poured him a pot of tea and sat chatting until Sam woke up and joined us. His name is Phoxx and he's only twenty years old. Unfortunately I had ass-loads of work to do and left him with a care package of baked goods and Sam to keep him company. Later, I offered him my shower and showed him to my room. He saw my guitar and pleaded with me to sing him a song, which after much apprehension I did. He then showered me in praise and asked that I write the lyrics down for him to take on his journey. He was such an amazing character and as I later watched him paddle out of the bay, tanned and pulsing in energy, I said a little prayer for his safety. He's apparently going to swing back through in another month so hopefully I'll have another story about the fantastic Phoxx!

September 15th/ 2011

Lots to tell, so I'll just ramble it all off incoherently and likely with improper punctuation. One morning I came down and found a small brown bird laying outside the dining-room door. Annie said, "He's ok, just wait," but I couldn't see any movement and was sure he was dead. Sure enough, I went back to check and he bobbed his little head as if waking from a nap. Then he looked around a bit, took a couple hops and flew off.

The new group is amazing, a bunch of laid-back Albertans and they're all hard partiers. I've had a couple late nights and too much mixing of alcohol. Brian Thomas the group leader is an absolute riot, like a jolly alcoholic Santa Claus. He brought with him, amongst a shit-load of other liquor, a bottle of vodka that looked exactly like a fire extinguisher. That did me in one night, they were all shooting it straight. Sam and I went for a kayak today. We've been pretty good with our exercise quota although today is a lazy day because I'm fucked from tequila last night. I can't really avoid it, I tried to go up to bed and they all stopped me at the fire. Even if I make it past the fire there are a couple of guys on the upper deck with a chest freezer full of beer and they usually don't let me into my room without having a drink with them. I think it's taking it's toll because I had my first mini-breakdown the other day. It's hard to keep in touch with yourself with so much external beauty crowding your senses. The isolation creeps up on you when you least expect it, like when I stood folding fitted sheets in the dining hall and felt this heavy sadness float down over me like dust. Tears stung my eyes and my face cramped to resist letting them fall. It was odd. Regardless, it's all sorted now. Yesterday was the most fun I've ever had in my life. I finally had a chance to go on the dive boat and I wanted to snorkel. The only wetsuit Annie had was a small, but it looked closer to child-sized and honestly took a good half-hour to cram myself into. I had to wear nylons so my legs would apparently 'slide right in' but it was more liked cramming two nude sausages through holes the width of drinking straws. I was sweaty and bothered just getting into it and then once I was in, I felt like I was suffocating. My legs actually tingled it was so tight and I couldn't walk properly because the crotch was halfway down my thighs. But, Lord, I was determined to go on that boat and I made it work. We rode out past the lighthouse on Scarlett Point to Cardigan Rocks where the wreck of the Themis awaited the divers below. Once they were out I got suited up in a hood, gloves, socks, boots, flippers, mask and snorkel and they lowered me into the water on this elevator thing to test my weights. I was giggling like a child I was so excited. Once I was in the water I swam through a kelp bed to a clearing above a rock beneath the waves. I was in absolute awe. The young kelp was being tossed about by the tide, flipping back and forth revealing life hidden beneath. I saw rat fish, lots of rock fish; koolaid-blue anemones; abalone; HUGE starfish and lots of jellies and random floating creatures. I could have stayed in the water for ages and all I wanted to do was dive down. The majority of time I was pretty warm, but near the end my hands started getting cold so I figured I should get out. I had been in the water longer than some of the divers! On the ride back we all had a beer and I just had this huge goofy smile on my face for the rest of the day. I was probably a little too high on life because I decided to drink tequila with one of the guests and when I came back to the dining room I couldn't even manage to finish folding laundry I was so messy.

September 20/ 2011

New group here again, not nearly as fun as the last but with an added bonus of a dog and a baby! I was so happy when they got off of the boat. Dogs are exciting enough out here, but a baby! I am beyond happy. Especially because baby Claire apparently loves me, always laughing and smiling when I look at her. The day before this group arrived, I got to see a Lion's Mane Jellyfish hanging out in the bay, looking like floating brains. I watched it all day while doing changeover; it bobbed up, spread it's star-shaped body then turning and flipping over to display the tangled noodles of tentacles beneath. It's colours reminded me of a sunset.

Along with this group came a young lad, Tyler and his friend, Kimberly. They were chopping wood in return for staying the weekend. They hung out on Sam's second-to-last night where we all, me especially, got really messy-drunk. I don't remember going to bed and Sam puked for five hours straight. I woke up and was unable to get out of bed until noon. ROUGH. Before this gourd of divers arrived we had 'family time' when Kristen, John, Watson the dog, Claire the baby, Tyler, Kim, Sam, Annie, Bill and I all rode over to Balaclava to show everyone the property I'm in love with. We walked along the boardwalks and Sam and I found a big swing consisting of a large bouy attached to a rope that arced down an embankment and out over a small stream. It was pretty high up and Bill told us he hadn't exactly checked the stability of it in quite a while. Sam chickened out but I totally swung on that death-trap-rickety thing and it was fun as hell. We all went down to the beach after checking out the cabins and I threw sticks for Watson in between beach combing. Some other highlights from the last few days: Bill and Annie climbing the wind turbine to install Bill's new weather station. Trippy as hell watching them so far up, attached with climbing gear. One day Watson was chasing his tail around the deck and knocked my glasses into the water. I was reading at the time, stretched out on the bench with Brian sitting next to me. We both just kind of watched them sink down into the water, then looked at each other and laughed. Brian suggested getting them with a fishing rod and after repeated attempts to latch the hook onto some part of the glasses from twelve feet above, I finally succeeded! Thank God, I'm pretty useless without them.

I'm at one month here and the hairline fractures are beginning to show. It's so hard to speak negatively about a place like this as it's any person's dream to be here, but most people only stay a week or two, it's different when you're living here. However, whenever I get feelings like this I try to think of Phoxx, try to wish him well and realize that he must have it so much harder than me. We all need to find ways of dealing with our surroundings, no matter how over- or under-whelming.

September 26th/ 2011

Laying here in bed listening to thunder rumble across the sky and watching fits of rain fall outside my door. It's funny, i wished for thunder and lightning when I got here and was told it never happened. Here's my wish coming true; that last roll nearly shook the cabin. Loving this. It's been raining for nearly a week straight but I've managed to keep the sun shining inside, I've gotten over that little blip I ran into and am carrying on past it, reminding myself of why I'm here and remembering to use the time as it flies past me. Wow, almost October. I almost slept in today but my faithful little internal clock urged me to turn over and check the clock and sure enough, I had set my alarm for pm. It amazes me that while you sleep some part of you is still aware that it's time to get up. Strong winds blew through the pass today and the divers were unable to get out until the afternoon, missing their first dive. Instead, after breakfast some of us decided to hike Lil' Mountain. It was intense. The wind almost blew us off the cliff. The wind was probably close to 50 knots and we watched it teasing the trees into an elaborate dance below us. We followed the trail back down to the upper decks, then cut across to a small island that you can reach at low tide. Another small journey through the woods took us to the shoreline facing the pass, overlooking the lighthouse on Scarlett Point. The rain fell in sheets and the sky churned almost as nastily as the sea. Waves were capped in froth and smashed into the rocks at our feet. I picked across the beach looking through cracks in the granite for shells. The shells here are gorgeous, untouched by hoards of beach combers. I used to take them back to my cabin but now I tuck the best ones in trees or on a bit of moss, leaving them for others to see. I found a bunch of hollow urchin shells, scattered along the shore by otters. We decided to head back but ultimately left it too late as our land-bridge was beneath a foot of water. We all trudged through in our boots except for George, who's ancient, he stripped his boots and socks off and went in bare feet. He's crazy and my favourite 'Grandpa'. Some of the others are creepy.

I think the thunder has moved on down the coast now, the only sounds are the patter of rain; the gush of spring water, stained red by the pine needle tannins, falling from the mountain into the sea; and the occasional cackle of a gull.

September 29th/ 2011

Phoxx is back! Woke up with a godawful hangover and laid in bed until 10 finishing a book. I was really in no mood to do changeover and grudgingly slumped down to the dining hall with my headphones in. I opened the sliding glass door and was hit with a smile so large it completely changed the colour of my day. I practically screamed and ran to wrap him in a big hug. He looked good, but insisted he had been through absolute hell. He almost died of hypothermia; the weather had been awful while he was gone and I had often looked out at the lashing waves and bitter, driving rain and said a little prayer for him. However, he made it and is richer from the experience, despite insisting he never wants to fucking kayak again. We sat in the dining hall and he took a break to call his Mom. I could hear her bawling from the other side of the room. It was so hard to hear, I can't imagine what it was like for her and what it was like to hear her sobs of anger and relief. Annie and Bill were in town and we asked Phoxx if there was anything they could bring back for him. All he asked for were smokes, and he's nearly finished the pack as we're all heading to bed. Today I found a small opalescent nudibranch clinging to the side of the docks. It was like a slug with wild orang-tipped 'hair' growing from it's back and strips lit up in blue along it's 'skirt'. It was beautiful. Later on, in the dining hall Phoxx said he had something for me. He unrolled some leather pouches he had tanned himself and out tumbled what looked like shards of black glass. Obsidian, he explained, that he had dug out of the ground in Oregon. Then he held up a collection of fish hooks he had carved from antler and gave me one. The fish hooks take hours to make and the obsidian is beautiful, when I hold it I can't help but think it's commercial glass. I would recognize it as such if I saw it on the ground; instead, it's from a volcano. After dinner we all watched tv, my first time since I got here, it was a little surreal. Didn't take me long to lose interest and pick up a dive magazine.

October 8th/ 2011

Another week or so has drifted by, a new group has been and gone. The group here now has some interesting characters. Dave is snooty and condescending but his much-younger wife is like a constant acid trip. Her eyes usually hang at half-mast and her laugh is composed of such a variety of noise you would think she was part exotic bird. I have seen the strangest couples here, sometimes I wonder if the money has anything to do with the awkward pairings.

The wildlife on Hurst has been beautiful and surprising lately. A family of about ten river otters has been frequenting the set of logs tethered near the end of the dock. They are hilarious, slick, fat brown things that make a huff-chuff sound when you approach them and noiselessly slip into the water like furry eels. On one of the last days of the last charter a Eurasian ringed dove flew into the bay and bobbed around our deck checking everything out. They are apparently very rare to see out here. Things are also coming inside from the cold now that Fall's chill has descended on us. We have a humane mouse trap in the kitchen and snagged a little friend the other evening. Bill took him to join his brethren on Nigei Island, or what I like to call, 'Mouse Island'. The spiders are also starting to move in. A large, shiny, red one has been perched in the claw foot tub in the staff bathroom all day. These are strange critters; large heads attached to awkwardly-small bottoms and legs sprung out and polished. They are roughly the size of wolf spiders but look somewhat more menacing.

I am currently sitting at a table on Balaclava having decided to take myself off on a mini-retreat. Bill's nephew Russell is here while Annie is away in Vancouver so the three boys have been left to their own devices back on Hurst. Good luck. I love Balaclava. There's something very heavy and ghost-like about it. Just had a beautiful stroll through the woods chock full of giant stumps and crisp green fingers of new trees, then along the coast to the next property. The rocks along the shore are so stark and angular, there's no softness of sand or rocks polished smooth by the waves. It's as if someone came through with an axe and hacked the coastline into rough polygons. The tide was low and as I cut a path along the beach I heard the familiar snorting of the river otters. They didn't appear too pleased that I had disrupted their tranquil swim. As I walked on I couldn't help but see myself as an invader. Although chemically and biologically I'm as much a part of nature as the wildlife, rocks, and greenery, I can't help but feel like a clumsy, heavy-footed intruder. My curiosity bloomed into my fingertips as I upturned rocks and tickled the bellies of tide-stranded anemones. I love the isolation of this island, but does the seldom-touched wilderness appreciate my presence?

October 15th/ 2011

The week of Russell has come to an end. On his last night we all had a good lengthy jam by the fire. A guest named Ken, who had coke-fiend energy, busted a drawer from the set in his room and was using it as a drum while tapping a tambourine with his foot and shaking a tin full of rocks. The music played out over the water until well past midnight and I took myself off to bed in preparation of changeover the next day. In the morning I groggily plodded down the ramps to the boat and said goodbye to everyone. Annie is dealing with some things in Vancouver so Tom is coming back. Another sausage-fest staff week.

October 23rd/ 2011

Surely there is nothing more peaceful than walking through the woods in the rain with a couple of dogs. Enjoying such rambunctious yet non-verbal company allows peaceful reflection while endearing one to the amusing nature of domestic animals. With this recent group has come a pair of dogs with whom I have completely fallen in love. They are by no means well-mannered and one only shows passing interest in me unless I have food, but I love them. The sleek, grey Weimaraner is named Gromet and he is as aloof as he is beautiful. He only has an 'on' switch, I have yet to see him lie down or even hint at relaxation. His spooky amber almond-shaped eyes are in constant motion and his body, streamlined and sturdy, patrols the deck up and down for the hours that his pack is away. His brother in crime, Carter the Coonhound is a little less enthusiastic, due mostly to age, but is much more affectionate. He flanks me with his reassuring waddle, his cropped tail wriggling out the end of his spotted behind. Only whips of grey amongst the brown; a chapped nose; and the degree of difficulty with which he arises from a nap betray his age. When food is involved he is puppy all over. On the first day, after the divers had left, I let them out of their room which has had all the rugs, furniture and fancy linens removed and set about cleaning the cabins. I had finished one, only mildly aware of sounds of disruption from outside. Coming our onto a platform above the main deck I could clearly see an earlier attempt to protect the garbage pit was in an escalating state of failure. One brown spotted hound was intent on devouring the delicious jambalaya of used napkins, assorted plastic and bathroom waste contained in various black bags. Luckily I arrived in time to thwart his efforts and construct a particularly artistic barrier using two-by fours; a rain barrel; the barbecue; and an upturned wheelbarrow. I named the sculpture, 'No, Dog, No.' From there on I was able to work in relative peace and awarded the dogs' 'good behaviour' with a walk. Their Mum had left me vaguely baffling instructions on how to use their special collars and as I listened to her words and watched her hands manipulate a small remote control with far too many options and buttons, I had to keep my mouth from dropping. These were shock collars. I nodded dumbly knowing I may as well not listen at all as I had no intention of using them. However, if the dogs had been conditioned they would most likely behave better with them on, so it was with this intent of slight trickery that I went to fetch them for their hike. I only had to reach for the collars for them to go ballistic, not in fear but in that unbridles, kinetically haphazard fashion of dogs expecting a walk. I managed to calm them long enough to secure the instruments of torture around their necks and give them a stern look in the eyes.

"Now look," I lectured them in my best alpha-female voice of authority and reason, "I don't want to have to use these on you so I need you to behave, ok?" To which they responded by whining and barrelling past me out the door. I remembered to pocket some treats so that is sheer authority didn't work, I would have bribery on my side. To my relief, they behaved pretty well. I only lost one of them once and actually resorted to the 'collar'. I turned it to the lowest voltage and my thumb wavered over the button as my voice waver out through the trees, "Last chance, Carter! I've got the remote out!" I barely touched the button, merely depressed it once and saw a red light flash indicating he was out of range anyway. Jesus.

Eventually with both dogs back in sight I started on the trail returning home. Today's walk went even smoother. I still put the collars on but I'm not entirely sure they work anymore as I've been letting the dogs leap through puddles and swim for sticks in the ocean. Maybe they respect the freedom enough to come running back when I call, or maybe bribing them with sausages and old pancake has convinced them to stay close... either way, the only shock they'll ever get from me is having to inevitably turn around and head home.

November 8th/ 2011

Back at home now watching colour drain from the trees, feeling the nibble of late-fall chill, falling backward into old patterns and routines. I have been outside of myself for the last week and certain feeling are peeking through the haze and rush of homecoming. I wonder if I'm actually happier wile on vacation or if I'm just addicted to the novelty of it all. I want to write about my last few days in GP before I lose all the little details that time fogs over.

I took Carter and Gromet for one let walk, out to Harlequin Bay through the soggy woods. The tides were at their extreme highs and lows and when we got to the bay the water was so far out we could walk along beach I had never seen before. I started out along the shoreline to the right and over the rocky arm turning sharply into the next bay. The rough rock was suddenly painted with blots of smooth, wet grey. Clay flats reached out in sweaty, sea-weed covered arms to the ocean. I walked over to a clean-looking patch, intent on taking some for Mom. The clay was like quicksand, swallowing my boots and sucking on them like tips of fingers. I decided that, although lovely, the clay unfortunately reeked of low tide and I abandoned my idea of carrying it back in a bulb of kelp. I followed a stripe of clay to the water and waded out a bit. The water was stained the deep colour of wine from the tannins and in contrast with the slate clouds of mud kicked up by my boots, gave the illusion of alien terrain. I walked back along the opposite way towards a garbage-strewn indent in the shoreline. I found a perfectly-intact, slightly dirty step stool and hooked it in my arm to take back with me to camp. On the pathway out of the beach and back into the woods there was a steep incline complete with a rope for balance. Carter had a hard time with it and at one point Gromet ran down the slope, but gently at Carter's neck, then ran back up as if showing him how to do it. Very cute. Back at GP we all got ready for dinner and an octopus floated into the bay, stalling the prep work. Another Great Pacific Octopus, rust coloured and unfurling it's arms onto the rocks below the water.

The next morning, my last, while standing at the kitchen sink I saw a rainbow curve over the trees and dip right into the water, as if God's Pocket was truly the end of the rainbow.

The next morning was a hung-over rush to get the boat packed in the dark. We left at 8am and I choked back tears the whole ride in. The sun started to rise, hidden behind cloud so thick you could look directly at it's fiery centre. As it rose, bands of orange and pink shot across the sky, painting the morning amongst the clouds and fog. I held the breath of this sight in my lungs, letting the last of my vacation seep into my body, watching the wake behind us churn the stretch of ocean that had cradled me for the last two months.