A lovely #Sointula morning on Malcolm Island. Sorry to be moving on…
We got up and started sorting. Then we hauled 3 bags up to the laundromat and Leslie dug in for the duration. I went in search of parts and odds and ends. I ended up buying my missing Chart 3515, another LED puck light (which I later returned as it didn’t have a built in switch–oops) and some 15w-40 and an oil filter. Much to my astonishment the oil and filter came to just over $50. That’s the cheapest thing I have ever bought for the boat. The LED with a switch would have set me back $90.
I hooked up with Dave and we arranged to change the oil in the Shack first then ours second. Then I went back with a dock cart and picked up Leslie and the laundry — I helped fold. I was informed later that a fellow sailor told Leslie that a really “manly” sailor would have done the laundry, which I am ok with, as long as I can do it my way. It’s just that my way doesn’t generally meet the Leslie Standard of Excellence. (The commenting sailor used the neologism “manlihood”, which perhaps says all that needs saying, says L.)
Apparently an oil change is pretty straightforward. The reason it costs so much for a mechanic to do it (upwards of $400+) is they charge from the moment they leave the shop. And the shops are never near the docks. It’s like getting a house call.
Anyway, the process is fairly simple and you just have to be extra careful not to make a mess. You run the engine to thin the oil and then suck it out using a special hand pump through the dipstick tube. A ziploc baggie over the oil filter helps prevent drips and spills and then you fill it back up. Pretty simple.
The only issue I had was supposedly my engine takes 5 liters of engine oil and after 4.5 it was already overfilled. We figure that we just didn’t get all of it out, but I am not sure what else we could have done. A question for the mechanics, I guess.
Dave opted not to change his Racor (fuel filter) since he had bled the air out of the system and wanted to eliminate that as a cause for his intermittent engine issue. Logic dictated that it had to be something other than the fuel or the filter, but no one seemed to be able to pinpoint the problem.
After all that, I collect the good doctor and we headed up for much-needed groceries. Selection was poor and prices were high, but we needed a bunch of stuff so it was grin-and-bear-it time.
And of course we stocked up on booze. My resolution to give up wine in favour of cheap bar rye has not had much traction, but at least we are drinking some of our wine from a box. And the beer habit needs some modification as well. It’s hard being frugal … sigh.
Back at the boat I made the worst hamburgers ever. Ever. We had been eating some store-bought frozen patties for the sake of convenience and they’d been ok, but after my BBQ cleaning session I was reluctant to mess up my grease-free grill. So I used this aluminum tray with ribs and some air vents to ’grill’ the burgers. Unfortunately what I basically did was fry them. Blech. At least the grilling added some crispy taste; frying them just brought out the cardboard. Next time, it’s to hell with the mess. And to add insult to injury I hadn’t stopped for lunch so I was starving.
Thus ended my day.
The next started with a hot shower and a trip back to the store. It was raining a bit but nothing too threatening. Leslie needed envelopes, I needed some vaseline for my head rebuild kit, and we wanted to try and find a new shower squeegee since we’d broken the handle on the old one. I also swung back through the ShopRite to grab a small bulb for our chart table light. Mission accomplished on all fronts.
Back at the boat we grabbed some gear and met up with Dave and Margaret. It was time to hit the ferry for our trip to Cormorant Island. This island is home to the Namgis Nation and the community of Alert Bay. It is also home to the U’mista Cultural Centre, which houses a ton of repatriated regalia. The ferry ride is pretty short and we disembarked and walked along the waterfront to the visitor’s center. The lady there was super-helpful and super-nice.
We chatted for a bit and then wandered off while Margaret stayed behind to talk. It seems she had a relative who had taught on the island and she wanted to talk about the residential school. Nonine, the lady at the info booth, was fairly active in band politics and very open to discussing the school and the emotions surrounding it. Afterwards M told us it seemed likely that her relative taught at one of the days schools rather than the residential schools and that they had agreed to do some research and email her the results. Like I said, super-helpful and super-nice.
While Margaret was continuing her enquiries, Dave, Leslie and I walked down to the old graveyard and admired the totems. There were old ones and new ones and some fallen to the ground. Local custom is that it was the family’s choice on how best to maintain them. Old tradition was to leave them on the ground and allow them to return to nature, but some families opt to repair and repaint them instead. There were some interesting juxtapositions of crosses, gravestones, and totem poles new and old. The graveyard was off limits to visitors so all our viewing was done from the road, which is too bad because I would have loved the privilege of getting up close to some of the carvings.
On the way back we met up with M and headed to U’mista. The story goes that in 1921 a huge potlatch (at the time prohibited by law) occurred on Village Island. This was the last straw for the authorities, and they threatened, bullied and outright confiscated all the regalia they could find and dispersed it to private collectors. In the later part of the century it all started to be returned and the local band built U’mista to house it. Unfortunately, the Centre is one of those “no pictures” galleries so I have only a postcard of all the wonderful masks and costumes. I really must ask Emma the logic behind prohibitions like that as some museums (the MOMA or the Met) allow photographs and some (the Frick or the Klimt Gallery) are simply death on the act. It usually doesn’t stop me from grabbing one or two illicit images, but for some reason I didn’t want to here. Maybe it was white-man guilt?
Did you know there were over 150 language groups on the West Coast? Their ‘divisions’ are so different and so varied compared to the Cree or the Blackfoot of the prairies. We grew up referring to them as Haida but not only is that a misnomer but actually fighting words. Literally in some cases. The first gallery in the Centre was about the residential school St Michael’s (or locally St Mike’s). It consisted of images and quotes from students. It seems the Haida were not well liked when they landed in the southern schools and fighting was sometimes an issue.
It was an interesting exhibit. Balanced, yet still capable of horrific moments. Many students looked upon their time at school as a gift. They learned to read and write, were fed and clothed, and emerged better off than they might have otherwise. Others chafed in varying degrees under the strict and often abusive tutelage of a system designed to eradicate the native culture. It was very eyeopening but still leaves many questions unanswered. And I guess there can’t really be any answers, just a sad history that is all that remains of collective memories and experiences. The most enlightening thing for me was that the whole residential school system was a solution to what was termed the Indian Problem. I’d never heard it phrased that way. It certainly does set the tone for what happened over the following three-quarters of a century.
The main exhibit is the collection of regalia. I unfortunately went round the wrong way so was more disappointed with the interpretive signage that I might have been otherwise, but I will say that it still was a bit less than it could have been. There was so much left unexplained and a bit too much repetition, and it left my knowledge fragmented and incomplete. Still, it has spurred me to more reading on my own time so I guess in a way that’s a good thing. It does remind me though of how much of an art designing human interfaces– whether computer or interpretive signage–needs to be.
We left U’mista in a happy but melancholy mood and wandered back towards town, taking pictures and enjoying the views. Eventually we hit Pass’n Thyme cafe and decided on a bite to eat. D & M had chicken wings and fries, while L had the oatmeal cookie and I opted for a Chocolate Explosion Cheesecake. I also asked for the hot chocolate with whipped cream, but was disappointed to find out there was no cream left.
Now here’s the thing about a trip to the Broughtons. People are nice. Really nice. Leslie enquired about the size of the cookie and the server (the owner) indicated a 3-4″ circle. When the cookie plate arrived there were two cookies since she had determined they were only 3″ and felt bad about over-estimating the size. And my hot chocolate showed up sans whipped cream because they were out, but she had sent her daughter down to the store to get more. So the second one (which I believe was free) was all whipped up. This sort of thing keeps happening. Nice, nice people.
I also received my second job offer on the trip. The first was to work at Sullivan Bay next season. This one was as cook starting immediately–as in in about ten minutes. Dave talked up my skills and I received an offer on the spot. As we were leaving she was still jokingly (I think) expecting me back in an hour with my apron on.
We wandered back to the ferry and were soon home on board. Our snack choices had been ill timed and left us full and hungry at the same time. We opted for toast for dinner. And a glass of wine for Les; I was more circumspect and stuck to ginger ale. Then we crashed on the settee and watched some West Wing. Tomorrow we are off again…
We are back in civilization again. I know that because the moorage rates went up ($1.25/ft) and the power went down ($7 for 30 amps). North Island Marina is a great place and we will likely be back in a week or so if our plan to collect Zak comes to fruition.
Today the plan is to cast off 11-ish and cross the Queen Charlotte Strait back to Wells Passage heading for Tracey Harbour. The last few boaters we had met who anchored at Tracey had been treated to a parade of bears, so we wanted our chance. We dumped recycling and bottles, refilled the water tanks, and were off the docks at 11:02.
Well about 10 minutes later, Dave radioed back that he was having fuel issues. Again. Right now Dave is one frustrated sailor. He said he was heading back to McNeill to change filters since they had a disposal facility. I said we’d putz about a bit and join him soon. Then Leslie suggested we cross over to Sointula which was only 6 km away. Great idea! The crossing was less than an hour and when I phoned ahead the wharfinger said that was tons of room on the shore side of K dock. It’s a municipal marina so it’s all first come, first served. I was expecting a more commercial dock with lots of rafting and poor facilities, but as we rounded the breakwater we were pleasantly surprised. The docks are nice, with power and fresh water, and the facilities (shower, laundry) were clean and cheap. It’s a great place, more reminicest of Stuart Island than the public docks we are used to. I asked at the office, and the lovely lady said that local pleasure boats rarely have to raft and visiting pleasure boats almost never have to. Costs are low ($.95/ft and $8 for 30 amp service) and the place is great.
Anyway, since the lady had said that K dock was mostly empty, I asked Leslie if she wanted to dock. I think her response was something like “If I have to. I guess.” Anyway, she piloted the boat into the marina and around the fingers and brought her up pretty as you please at dead slow so I could step off. Then she gave it a bit of reverse and completed a textbook-perfect docking. First time on the new boat! I guess I can start kicking back more often now.
We checked in at the harbour office and immediately decided to stay the night. No point in going back to McNeill when it is just as comfortable here and a better atmosphere (long-time readers will recognize that Malcolm Island and Sointula is a socialist paradise and Leslie is madly in love with the lifestyle here). So I let Dave know we were staying and would hook up again the next day.
Then we headed into town. The main part of town and the ferry docks where we had visited last year were about 3 km down the road. There are free bikes you can borrow, but we opted to walk. It really is beautiful and friendly here, and everyone waves as they drive by. We picked up some fresh-cut rosemary at the garden exchange, which, by the way, had moved from across from the museum to beside the info centre. We mulled about the fresh snap peas but decided to pass. Then we walked over to the Co-op and picked up some orzo, chocolate chips, and a couple of pork loins. Next we skipped across the street to the bakery and had a coffee (me), a C-Plus (Leslie) and some peanut butter cookies while staring across the strait.
Back at the boat we settled in for some writing and reading time in the warm sunshine. Then it’s nachos for supper. Life is good.
We got up and checked the weather. It looked like there was wind out in the Strait today but it would calm after the next few. The plan had been to visit Billy Proctor and his museum today and then go a short distance to some anchorage, then head across the strait tomorrow. But with the prospect of wind we decided to go to McNeill today and give up on Billy.
Today is Zak Day… I walked up to the cell-phone booster by the store and sent him a birthday text. Supposedly he is coming out to visit in a week so I’ll give him a hug then. We just have to figure out where we will be and how to get him from Vancouver to wherever that is.
After we cast off we headed down Fife Channel. i decided to veer off and take the narrow but scenic Indian Passage so we could swing by Eden Island.
It was a beautiful passage and the monks and crannies certainly warrant another visit. As we emerged from around Eden Island we caught sight of R Shack Island with her main up and slightly behind us.
At the entrance to the Strait you could see the fog flowing in and gently creeping up the sides of the islands. But since R Shack was having intermittent rev issues again we decided, what the hell, let’s sail in the fog. So we did. Since the forecast was for 15-20 we decided to start with a reed in.
We sailed for 40 minutes or so tacking back and forth between the rocks and islets at the mouth of the channel. The visibility was the worst we had ever experienced at less than a 1/4 mile. The radar was working fine and the only other boat “in sight” was R Shack although we couldn’t actually see them after the first tack.
Unfortunately, despite the forecasts, the winds slowly died. we shook out the reef but eventually we had to fire up the motor. We left the main up though, just in case. And then it got really foggy. It was eerie and tough to maintain a course without a lot of concentration but we managed. At one point as we were coming up on Penfold Islets I actually steered towards them to try and get a sense of the visibility. The sky overhead was starting to show some blue but ahead was only gloom. When I finally spotted the big gray-green mass of the rocks and trees they were well within the 1/4 mile range ring.
As we approached the sw corner of Malcolm Island the fog continued to dissipate and eventually R Shack slowly appeared out of the most 1/3 of a mile off our port bow. and the sun peeked out creating a great rainbow around it.
Passing the point of Malcom island we entered the Cormorant Passage and the winds came back. So we killed the motor and rolled out the jib. And then the winds started to climb. When they hit gusts of 20 knots there were rumblings of mutiny so I veered off the wind and coasted for a bit. After some negotiations we tried again. Too tacks and the rumblings started again so we finally hove to and put in a big reef.
Then we sailed in 12-15 knots with gusts up to 22 knots. Gusts are killer since you get used to the angle of the boat and suddenly it tilts over like a drunken teenager and you have to reorient (read that as get over being terrified) and then it settles again. Then the whole thing happens again and again at random intervals. Kinda nerve-wracking. But we sailed all if Cormorant Channel and finally dropped the sails outside Port McNeill.
It was late-ish (after 5:30) when we rounded the breakwater headed for North Island Marina. My slip assignment was the end of B-dock, stern in, starboard tie. And for the first time this trip, there was no one to meet me in the dock. It was a bad bad bad docking; my first in this boat. And it was bad. Bad bad. Let’s put it this way, it took 6 people to get the boat in backwards. Bad.
One of the best things about civilization was clean water for the tanks and honest to god garbage bins. No more garbage! First jobs after we finally got tied up.
Then we signed in and decided we needed a beer and greasy burger so we headed ashore to Gus’ Pub (note the proper use of the possessive…Leslie certainly did). I had Gus’s Famous Double Burger (my apostrophe not his) and was stuffed to the gills afterwards. The it was back to the boat and time to sack out. Long, long day.
We are in McNeill now so I added a ton of pictures to this post. Go back and look!
Unless something happens, Margaret needs to be back in Vancouver by September 4th. That means we are likely winding up our trip to the Broughtons. And we still haven’t touched even the tiniest bit of what it has to offer. But we are trying. Man, are we trying.
We left Turnbull Cove close to slack this time. Real slack. I finally figured out my app was giving me data from close to Alert Bay, two and a bit hours away as the tide goes. Live and learn.
The big yellow trimaran that had pulled in late yesterday was already gone but we passed it just at the end of the narrows. Other than that the trip was a Powerboat Extravaganza. We saw more powerboats, usually in pods of two or three on this short trip than we’d seen in weeks. We all kept thinking there wasn’t going to be a berth available anywhere.
And apparently powerboats don’t practice rock avoidance. There is a big one at the end of Sutlej Channel that, according to my radar, 3 consecutive boats went right over. To my way of thinking, even if the chart datum says its safely below your keel, you still go around. But I guess I think like a sailor.
Speaking of radar, once we passed Sullivan Bay it was mostly foggy. Not foggy according to the weather because as they often say “Fog implies visibility of less than one (nautical) mile.” But visibility was not too much more than that and the clouds were really low. And what the means is the danger of low flying planes is quite real. Apparently the float planes fly between the islands and below the clouds on days like this. And if you have this big, 50-foot pole sticking up from your boat, you start to have some competition for air space. Well it sure felt that way.
Shawl Bay is an older marina that hasn’t been kept up to the standards of the others. The store is gone and everything is a bit rougher and a bit in need of a little tlc. But it’s got a lot of friendly inhabitants, some quite long-term, and at $.90/foot it’s affordable. And the more worn feel means the high-end monster boats are no where to be seen. I liked it.
And we hit Deep-fried Turkey Night. I baked up a couple of batches of biscuits as our contribution and had my first deep fried turkey. It wasn’t half bad, but doesn’t hold a candle to a traditional one. or t least the one’s I’m used to being served. Man, am I ever spoilt.
Afterwards we settled in and watched the Gilmore Girls finale. It wrapped it all up, but wasn’t the best ending of a series ever. Not sure what we will move on to next. I ripped the entire West Wing series and have 3 seasons of Jeff Daniels in Aaron Sorkin’s Newsroom, so we have choices.
Morning here at Shawl Bay begins with free coffee and pancakes. And that was one of the reasons I wanted to visit here. And they were good. Lorne and his (I think) daughter Tracey are the proprietors and they treat everyone well. I also discovered they bake fresh bread and pies so I picked up a loaf and some buns for later. It’s all on the honour system and you just settle up at the end of your stay.
We decided to stay another night rather than anchoring out one night before we had to head to our reservations at Pierre’s. That way we could get some chores done. I decided on BBQ maintenance. The amount of grease that kept dripping all over my transom was out of proportion to whatever I had been cooking so I figured there was some serious grunge buildup that needed attention.
So I disassembled what I could do easily and started scrubbing. Remarkably it came clean(-ish) rather quickly. Which just makes you want to scrub more to get it right back to pristine—something that I gave up after the second round of scrubbing. And then I started disassembling even more. Dave pointed out a grease trap I had missed and I unbolted the bottom plate to get at the subfloor. All-in-all it took a couple of hours and a bunch of elbow grease but hopefully it will be better now.
One of the downsides was that scrubbing all that metal resulted in about 6 or 7 ‘paper cuts’ on my fingers. Lots of sharp edges and the scrubbing motion made the slices inevitable. This just makes doing anything with my finger tips, or worse, cooking with any acids, pure hell. Thank god fingers heal fast!
After lunch we mounted the outboard and went for a dinghy exploration of Shawl Bay and the adjoining Moore Bay. I thought I saw a dolphin — there’s been a real dearth of them this trip — and we did see at least 3 seals involved in death matches with salmon. Good fishing here obviously.
At the far end of Moore Bay there is a forestry dinghy dock and a small recreation area with fire pits and picnic tables. And they had the most awesome cedar outhouse you’ve ever seen. And the old stumps here are huge. It would be so cool to see these giants before they were cut down.
On the way back we toured by the float homes that dot the coast of Shawl Bay. We’d met a few inhabitants last night at the turkey dinner and chatted as we putted by.
Back on the dock, Dave convinced me to join Happy Hour. I chatted with the couple off Grasal (Gregg and Jean) who were from from Calgary/Point Roberts. They’d been all over from Alaska to New Zealand and were quite friendly and shared a lot of stories. He climbed too, so we swapped a few tales.
Les visited the traditional book ’exchange’ and did her version of ’exchanging’ which bears a striking resemblance to hoarding if you ask me.
I made pork chops for dinner and then, as we had opted out of power for the first day, we enjoyed a warm solar shower and closed it down for the night. I hadn’t realized how lucky we were to have an opening overhead hatch in our shower stall. We simply leave the solar showers outside on the cabin top and run the hose down. Apparently the Shack has no such facility and Dave is forced to use his transom.
Once again it was pancakes for breakfast and we chatted some more with Grasal. Margaret has decided (quite sensibly) that free pancakes aren’t worth both the 8pm start and shivering in the now cooler mornings, but I managed to chivvy and prod Leslie into joining us.
We putzed around for a few more hours and then, around noon, we cast off bound for Pierre’s at Echo Bay for two nights and their famous pig roast. I had booked Nikki from Echo Bay EcoVentures for a tour of Village Island and some learning in native and natural history.
As we exited the bay we pulled out the sails and, to the great joy of all involved, sailed the whole way! From Shawl Bay to Pierre’s at Echo Bay is 8.3 nm on the most most direct route which is what we would have taken had we motored. with the sails up we covered 10.7 nm in total, eating all the way. It was completely sail powered except for but .7 hrs out of the almost 3 hour trip. Awesome stuff.
And to cap it all off as our last tack was bringing us almost directly into Echo Bay, a Humpback whale surfaced off our starboard side and the winds climbed to 14 knots. It was quite the exciting finale to a grand day. I managed to catch a little tail fluke on video.
Then we tied up and signed in. We picked up some tortilla chips and had baked nachos for dinner. Much more successful than last time.
Today is D & M’s 25th Anniversary. We did up a hand-drawn card, quietly wished them our best. That way M’s anonymity could remain reasonably intact.
We started the day as per usual and packed some gear for our trip. Rumour has it Nikki only has a small powerboat and it might get chilly. Nikki van Schyndel is a young-(ish?) lady who lives here at Echo Bay. When she was in her “lost years” she and a companion lived primitive in the Broughtons for a year. They gathered all their own food, built shelter and basically survived “in the wild.” The skill and knowledge she gained during that period she now uses to educate and tour people around. She spent 6 of those months on Village Ialand so we figured she’d be a great tour guide.
She has a 15 or so foot boat with a 50 horse in the back. It did 16-18 knots most of the trip. A way different way of seeing the waters around here.
In the way out she was listening to Channel 7 (the whale watching channel) and a friend of hers had spotted Orcasshe asked if we were interested. Duh. So we zoomed out into the strait and towards Malcolm Island. Along the way we spotted an immature eagle, a couple of porpoises and off in the distance, two separate humpbacks. It was an extravaganza.
And then we saw the orcas. Pod A5 to be exact (we figured that out a bit later with the help of some other watchers). There were 5 or 6. One in the lead, probably the matriarch, and the rest, including one big male with a monster dorsal fin, following behind. We killed the motor and watched them swim by. Sigh.
Then Nikki borrowed a jerry can of fuel from the Fonz (a whale watcher out of Nimmo) and we zoomed off to the humpback. He was magnificent. Apparently the auklets stir up the fish while diving for them and the fish create a ball as a defensive mechanism. Then the eagles and seagulls come along and pick off the surfacing fish and the whales come in from below. Nice system.
After our full of whales we caught up to the orcas for one last show. We stopped ahead and to the side of their path but a big schooner-sized sailboat full of eco-touriats with monster lens drove the whales almost directly at us. So we were treated to a bit of a beautiful parade as they streamed by at less than a 100 feet.
And then we were off. We stopped to float by a pictograph near the Chief’s Bathtub with its pictograph and Nikki pointed out an old burial site with a bentwood box still extant on the Star Islets. (There’s a government sign so it’s not a secret.)
Then we arrived at Village island. Nikki is pretty cavalier about the rocks and barnacles and we just off loaded right onto them. Then she anchored her boat a bit off and we headed into the bush. The village site has been empty since the 60s and not maintained at all in the last bunch of years. So what was fields when Nikki was here is now overgrown with blackberries and other head-high shrubs. So there wasn’t a lot to see, at least in terms of getting a sense of the lay of the village.
At one time there were up to approximately 12 or 13 long houses. The main supports for one remains. The story goes that there was a fire and they built this one hastily to house people. As a result it didn’t get all the fancy carvings and decorations and thus was never “collected.” There are also a few modern homes slowly decaying in the shrubs. The Chief’s house and the old school/infirmary loom out of the field of greenery as eerie as any haunted house you could find.
We picked berries (blackberries and thimble berries) and foraged for greens as we left the trail and strolled along the midden beach. You could see in the eroded banks, the metres and metres of old shells. It’s estimated that every foot is a hundred years so this village site is old. Really old.
Among other plants, Nikki gathered some Western dock, arrow grass (which tastes like salty cilantro), sedum, sea asparagus and more. Even some tasty mushrooms. Turns out her ’bible’ when she was learning was Plants of Coastal BC. Huh.
At the end of the beach we walked back up to the site and saw the last totem slowly fading away on the edge of the path. The wolf was still clear and you could make out the bear and face of the chief if you had someone to point it out. It’s beautiful and sad at the same time that these artifacts are slowly fading back into nature.
We loaded up and then headed back towards the Ridge Islets, which is where we’d seen the orcas a few days ago. We pulled up to a small islet with some flat rocks and Nikki proceeded to make us lunch. She gathered some firewood while we stripped the inner layer of cedar bark to fine threads. Then she made fire. It was so cool. She did the whole bow and spindle thing with a birds nest made from the cedar bark we’d stripped and everything.
Then she made lunch. A stirfry made from the mushrooms and greens she foraged, dried bull kelp and some dried salmon. The only addition was some precooked rice for filler. Then we ate it in clam shells with smaller shells for spoons. It was surprisingly delicious.
Nikki is a lovely soul. She talked to the whales as we watched them, spoke of her “arrangements” with the bears she had lived near and rescued a small blue butterfly from the salt water, dried it out in her boat and then left it on the small islet. And it was all pretty much unconscious. I’d like to be as connected as she was …
Soon enough it was 18 knots of zooming back to Pierre’s. We thanked Nikki profusely and and headed back to our boats to find something to make for the potluck portion of the pig roast. We settled on Leslie’s Famous Corn Meal Muffins as appropriately suitable for Pierre’s Famous Pig Roast. I did up the batter and then left it to her to wrestle with the oven. That way I was innocent of any burnage or rawness that might occur. Sneaky huh!
The pig roast was fun. We were unfortunately table 9 of 9 so the potluck pickings were slim and seconds on the pig was also slim to nonexistent. But it was good. Roast pig is a lot like pulled pork. It’s a more “beefy” texture than ham or pork chops. Or maybe it was like turkey dark meat? Different anyway. We drank our last bottle of wine and enjoyed the evening.
Then it was bed time. The thought was to visit Billy Proctor’s museum before we cast off so it might be an early-ish day.