Aqua Chautauqua
Journal Entry #2
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Tucker Bay sunset at 9:58 PM
Lasqueti Island to Port Alberni
NAKED mermen are swimming in the chill waters of Tucker Bay.
Well... I guess some of them are wearing water shoes so technically they are not completely naked though the mermaids that are swimming with them are wearing nothing but their sun-kissed human skin, silky and smooth as the afternoon light shimmers in droplets clinging to their arms and cheeks as they climb onto the rocks at Mose Mosley Point.
(Let’s not mention where that geographic name comes from. I’m certainly not the first person around here to change the place name of a prominent outcropping, though I may be the first to watch these lovely mermaids as they emerge from the water.)
Can we just say that earthly beauty abounds in all things?
We are deeply into our second day of camping and performing on Lasqueti Island and a group of us have taken to the water to gain the rocky point, from which we can see, in anchorage, one of the boats of the Aqua Chautauqua fleet, the 29ft double-ender sloop, Merlita.
The Merlita is tied to a mooring buoy, swinging southeast with the changing tide and her captain Eric Morris is motoring toward her in an inflatable dingy, his wake disturbing the glassy waters of the short bay. In the distance, close, we can see the bald islet, South Dumpling, and then, further, the channel that connects False Bay to the Georgia Strait and greater still, most far, the mountains that rise in a forested spine along central Vancouver Island.
It is a spectacular view and three of us, all naked mermen, are standing up on the ridge-top within a thin grove of madrona trees, their dried bark crackling under our feet, looking out into the bay and quietly acknowledging that this is why we came on tour.
And you, gentle reader, were thinking it was because of the naked mermaids.
* * * * * * *
From the most recent Canadien census it is calculated that 498 people live on Lasqueti Island as year-round residents. The residents themselves think that this number might inflate itself to about 1200 during the summer months, but there is no one to say for sure. The zoning laws here call for a minimum lot size of ten acres, which distributes the houses, shacks, converted school buses, yurts, chicken coops, 12-sided pagodas, and beached pleasure yachts (all dwellings of one sort or another) sporadically throughout the island.
There are only a couple central gathering spots. The post office. The community center.
The ferry dock. Thus plenty of privacy within the thick northwest forest, but also a predilection among the populace to turn out in numbers for whatever events are provided. Wide support for the arts here. Especially the performing arts.
Which is a good thing for us, because our “Big Show” is in it’s infancy and therefore a bit ragged at the edges. And in the middle. Also the beginning and the end.
And Lasqueti Island gets to witness the premiere.
I’m not going to be some harsh reviewer who tells you that our show sucked. Let’s just say that for what it lacked in polished talent it made up for in exuberance. Think of watching ten minutes of Artis the Spoonman explaining his existential angst while hitting himself in the side of the head with a heavy wooden spoon. I’m not saying this actually happened, (though it did somewhere in some universe) I’m just giving you an impression of what it was like to watch that show.
Lucky for everyone it only lasted three hours.
And the audience seemed to love it.
This is what isolation for nine months out of the year can do for you.
Now let’s get to the REAL reason why we were here.
The Schleppers.
* * * * * * * *
The thing about Lasqueti Island is that the public ferry boat only takes passengers.
Everything else transported out to the island goes by small private barge.
On some of the barges for hire you might get one or two very small cars aboard. You most certainly cannot transport a 37-foot Army Bus (our people mover), an 18 foot cube truck (our stage set and camping gear) and a full-sized Ford cargo van pulling at 22 ft tandem-axel cargo trailer (our kitchen and food supplies.)
So we leave these vehicles all parked at a friend’s lot near French Creek Marina. And what do we do?
We unload all of our gear (a literal mountain of stuff) and schlepp it down to the docks. Schlepp it onto the three barges, motor it across the west channel of the Strait of Georgia (calm but choppy, a two hour journey) tie up to the docks at Squitty Bay (a narrow slice among hard rock outcroppings that opens to a short deepwater inlet and a multi-purpose dock. Entry not advised during stormy weather, or anytime at all by the faint of heart), unload the barges, load the gear on various small and large trucks of various vintages, with various mechanical oddities the most prevalent of which seems to be no power breaks or steering.
Without creating too much of a run-on sentence, we schlep the gear over to the community center, schlep it to our campsite a good half-mile walk away, schelp it back for the show, schelp it to Saturday market for a teaser show and parade, schelp it back to the community center, schelp it back onto the fleet of trucks, then (still schlepping) back onto the various barges and such, motor back across the Strait of Georgias (still relatively calm) unload everything at the dock and then schelp it back into the bus, truck, and cargo van.
At this point we have actually out-schlepped ourselves.
Any other group would probably call it a day. Call it a tour. Having worked hard enough for several tours, several summer’s worth of schlepping, one big long show, taking with us all the universal love and kindness from the folks of Lasqueiti, a big smile on everyone’s face.
The scenery, the naked mermaids, the beautiful sail boats, great conversations with interesting film makers….it’s enough to fill anyone’s journal.
But, in reality, it is only the first stop.
We are on our way to Port Alberni, on the Alberni Inlet, off the famous kayaking land of Barkley Sound, mid-way up Vancouver Island, a somewhat destitute logging town trying to make a comeback as a eco-tourist sanctuary.
We are all high on life and schlepping.
A perfect innocent target for the Zombie death virus that has been stalking us since day one. We didn’t see it coming.
Is this exciting enough for you?