As some of you know, I’ve embarked on my writing retreat in Greece. I left Vancouver yesterday (Tuesday) at 6:30am in my first Uber, feeling excited and hopeful. A day later, I’m sitting in a Starbucks at Zurich Airport with free wifi and using my Euro plug. But I still haven’t made it to Greece. I really need to write this all down just to expunge it from my tired, battered brain so I can move on. Literally. If I count, I’ve been out here “traveling” for almost 24 hours, carrying all my gear, and wearing the same clothes.
Monday night, I made the mistake of checking the AC app (I think you all know who AC refers to, Canadian friends. Threatened pilot strike. blah blah blah.) The app announced that my Tuesday morning flight to Toronto with connection to Athens was delayed 1 hour 10 minutes.
I lay there all night, stress hormones literally percolating in my body, trying to decide if I should change my flight because I knew we were cutting that connecting flight really close. I had time I had 30 minutes to run between gates. My travel partner was joining me in Toronto and we were setting off on our Athens flight together. Around 2:30am, I discovered there was a 6am flight. I phoned the AC 24/7 lines five or six times and was told by the pleasant recorded male voice that there was a high level of calls and to be prepared for a three-hour wait time. I still haven’t been able to get through. I knew I wasn’t going to sleep all night so thought why not go out to the airport now and try to get a seat on that flight?
Then I thought, “No, you’ll be fine.”
That’s where I made my second mistake. I should have listened to my intuition.
Screenshot
The Athens flight, along with my partner, departed at 6pm (10 MINUTES EARLY.) Our Vancouver flight left later than predicted. The delay was apparently a mechanical thing. Then, one of the flight attendants was late and we all had to wait for him to arrive and board. Ironically, the best thing on that flight was the kind AC pilot sitting beside me. He helped me unravel the trickier bits of seat trays, overhead bins, and hidden screens. I thanked him and said, “You must wonder how I get through life.” He just smiled. He really was a great guy.
I was first off and raced through Terminal 1 because, you know, I had to try. I found the gate at 6:20pm. I was told that, “Nope. That plane has gone.” In the meantime, AC had rebooked me on a flight Toronto – Zurich – Athens. In theory, this was a decent plan. At boarding time, we, The 300, herded in the loading zones, but there was no plane on the tarmac. It had been in for maintenance that day and wasn’t back yet. About 30 minutes later, the plane appeared and they loaded the people who need extra help. The herd remained jostling anxiously. I wasn’t the only one with connections. About 30 minutes after that, the people who needed extra help came back off the plane and joined us. What? They were doing tests on the plane. Eventually, we all got on and took our seats, and sat there . . . and sat there.
At one point, the whole plane shut down and people stopped boarding. Here are some texts to my friend in Vancouver:
So all the power shut down in the friggin plane and we’re all sitting here in stunned silence.
It’s terrifying and they’re not telling us anything.
The lights are going to black. We’re on emergency power.
What was I thinking? Should I get off and get a hotel? What if this happens while we’re up in the air? I actually texted Tara: “I love you guys.”
When we grabbed the flight attendant, she said it was “just a routine system reboot and it’s 100% now.” She said, she’d made an announcement. Hello, the sound system wasn’t working.
We sat there in scary mode so long, one family with young kids decided to leave the plane. I understood. I was on the cusp of bailing myself when the captain came on to reassure us that everything was just fine. The new problem was the family’s luggage was packed in the hold with the other 300 suitcases. So, we sat there another 45 – 60 minutes while the ground crew rifled through the bags to give them their luggage and the mechanics tried to repair the inflight entertainment system. They were unsuccessful but it took two hours of trying. “It’s for the passengers, you know.”
Eventually, we left. Two hours late. Meaning, I lost my Athens connection in Zurich.
Then, we had a medical emergency somewhere over the ocean. The flight attendants canceled breakfast for everyone but business class because they love business class and they were too busy. Nope, they couldn’t even serve coffee—the coffee maker was broken or something . . . When we finally landed, we were told not to move because the paramedics had to come through to pick up the person. No problem. I’m no longer in a hurray.
So, there you have it. It’s Wednesday afternoon Zurich time and I’m hunkered down in this clean modern airport with a beautiful view of Swiss trees, tarmac, and planes. I have a dinner voucher worth 31 Swiss Franks (something like $50CA.) It’s raining, but I’m on the ground and I’m safe. I have a boarding pass that says I have a 7pm flight to Athens and I’ll arrive around 10:30 tonight and join my travel partner in the hotel. I haven’t slept yet and I really need a shower. But as always, I remained calm throughout. Well, mostly.
This is my first trip in seven years. Hmmmm . . . I know these are first world problems, but SSHHIIITTTT!
I travelled to Orkney with a dear friend in 2009. It’s an incredibly magical place; one I’m sure I’ve lived at least one life before. At least, that’s what one of my guides tells me.
So I was thrilled tonight to join Philip Carr-Gomme’s “Tea with a Druid 146” and find this brilliant Druid leader introducing a new and wonderful book about Orkney. Just hearing Philip talk about the book and closing my eyes to take in the author’s deliciously poetic language during meditation inspired me to buy the book. And I have! A Christmas present to myself!
Skara Brae 3100BCE
The book is called This Old Golden Land: an alternative Orkney guidebook for spiritual seekers, mystics, and pilgrims. It’s Indie-published and comes direct from the authors in Orkney.
If you’ve never been to Orkney—it’s a ferry ride from the northernmost tip of Scotland—I suggest you visit when the circle turns and we are once again traveling through this beautiful planet we call home.
As I’ve said before the best research is hands-on. That way, you can indulge your senses.
Last Saturday, we enjoyed a day cruise from Gold River (on Vancouver Island, British Columbia) to Yuquot at Friendly Cove. This is Nuu-chah-nulth traditional territory. The term, Nuu-chah-nulth means “all along the mountains” and refers to sixteen tribes from Alaska to Washington state that speak different dialects, but collectively are sea-faring people.
Uchuck means healing waters. “The Uchuck III can move along at twelve knots, and carry up to 100 day-passengers and 70 tons of general cargo including three or four cars” (Get West.) We watched from the upper deck as the crew loaded supplies using a crane for the folks at Yuquot. This included a new red ATV that was immediately put to work when we arrived. When we were underway at last, the two-hour cruise took us through Muchalaht Channel past controversial fish farms and logging swaths, around Bligh Island (named for a young Captain Bligh of Bounty fame), and through Cook Channel into Friendly Cove. It was a perfect day of sun and fair breezes and the calm waters certainly felt healing. The captain said that humpback whales often come into Muchalaht Channel. All around Nootka Sound, salmon fishermen were hoisting their catch to show off their prizes.
In 2014, I lived at the Nootka Light Station for two months, while working as a relief lighthouse keeper. Although it was a short stint, catching sight of the white and red Coastguard buildings felt like coming home. We had three hours to explore the Yuquot site, which includes an amazing pebble beach, a portion of the Nootka Trail that leads past a graveyard and rentable cabins at Jewitt Lake, the old church which has now been reclaimed by the Indigenous community as a cultural centre, and of course, the light station. But I am setting a murder mystery here, so was most interested in locations where one might kill someone without being seen and hide something precious. This landscape is not new to killing. In 1788, Maquinna (the Mowachacht chief) sent his people aboard The Boston to repay many insults—including the murder of his brother-in-law—by European sailors. The entire crew was murdered and decapitated except for the blacksmith John Jewitt, and the sailmaker who hid below. Maquinna needed Jewitt’s skills so kept him alive, and Jewitt convinced Maquinna that the sailmaker was his father. Jewitt lived three years as part of Maquinna’s family, wrote his story on the dead captain’s paper, and eventually returned to Boston where it was published.
The long pier was teaming with people as the Mowachaht/Muchalaht community was holding their annual Spirit Summerfest campout in the grassy area near the church and many friends and relatives had come out aboard the Uchuck III to visit. There was also a celebration in the church as this year marked the 240thAnniversary of Captain James Cook’s arrival at Nootka Sound.
As the story goes, Cook arrived in what he first called King George’s Sound in the spring of 1778 with the Resolution and Discovery. Making the usual European blunder, he named the people and the place based on his suppositions. The Indigenous people—who’d been living here for thousands of years—called out and told the captain to go around to avoid the reefs. More precisely, it happened like this:
“Captain Cook’s men, asking by signs what the port was called, made for them a sign with their hand, forming a circle and then dissolving it, to which the natives responded ‘Nutka’. No.tkak or no.txak means “circular, spherical” (Sapir and Swadesh 1939:276) in The Whaling People.
Though the village was teaming with people, Cook claimed the land for Britain. The British soon called all the people there, the Nootka, though there were 1500 Mowachacht people living in villages in the area. Yuquot was the summer home of Maquinna’s people and they wintered down the channel in Tahsis. The Mowachacht—“people of the deer”—began a lucrative (especially for the British) trade in sea otter pelts.
Captain Cook’s claim on Yuquot set the stage for later conflicts between the Indigenous people as well as the Spanish, who built Fort San Miguel on the rocks beside the lighthouse. Sadly, within forty years, the sea otter disappeared. Fortunately, they are now back in the area. I remember seeing them playing near the pier when I lived there. This charming sea otter photograph was taken by my friend Ivan Dubinsky, principal keeper at Scarlett Point Lightstation north of Port Hardy.
On our return voyage, we sailed through the more turbulent waters of Zuchiarte Channel. I went up to the wheelhouse to ask about the ship, but Captain Adrien said that he’d only answer my questions if I took a turn at the wheel. So, under his direction, I steered the Uchuck III through King’s Passage.
The wheelhouse is beautiful and it was a thrill to turn the wheel two spokes starboard and then back to port to straighten her out while keeping my eyes on the bow.
The fabulous photo below was taken by Low Light Mike, August 28, 2010. One of the crew had just polished the engine-telegraph (to the left of the wheel) a piece from BCCS’s Princess Victoria,a River Clyde vessel that sailed around Cape Horn in 1904.
We arrived back in Gold River at 5:30pm. It was a long glorious day, and I recommend taking a voyage aboard the Uchuck III so you can get a taste of history firsthand. For more photographs, cruise and booking information, check out Get West. Below is a site map of Yuquot and a directional map to Gold River. All maps Friendly Cove and Map to Gold River
Hands-on research is the best way to begin a book. It’s real. It’s kinaesthetic. It’s inspiring. And it will help you discover whether what’s in your mind will work logistically, and on the page.
I visited Saltspring Island seven years ago and loved the energy, beauty, and people here. So when I decided to set a new book on the West Coast, this island began to flicker. I’ve been here now for almost twelve days, walking the beaches, talking to people, going to markets, and scene-searching. It’s like being a director. You have to decide where specific scenes will be set. Among the things I’ve discovered are these:
The House: (Refuge)
In my mind, I saw an old family home on the northwest side of the island, with a large porch, lots of natural wood, board and batten, cedar-shaked, surrounded by pine and arbutus trees. It looks something like this and fits well with the history and culture of this island. But, I also wanted it to overlook the sea and have a dock where one of the characters could keep his fishing boat. The other day, after much beach ambling, I found one similar enough to work for me and make it viable.
Another one of the key characters is a potter, so Refuge will have a summer-kitchen/pottery studio. Yesterday, I visited a potter on the island and she showed me her kilns, her wheel, and we talked a little bit about the process of making pottery. I also bought two exquisite pieces. My potter is also a yoga teacher. The Saltspring Centre for Yoga is known for its teacher-training programs and retreats—I came to one several years ago. This character’s pottery business is called Dharma Designs and revolves around her beliefs as a yogini. The name Refuge describes The House well, as the main character, Gracelyn Lassiter, will leave her place of refuge to travel into the past and the unknown.
The Cemetery
As I said, sometimes you think something will work but when you actually see it and walk it, you realize it’s all wrong. When I first came here, I wanted to set the first scene in an old Anglican Cemetery. I researched churches and cemeteries and visited two. Neither felt right. Neither had cemeteries where someone could be buried in 2017. And then I realized that the person who died wouldn’t choose an Anglican Cemetery anyway. Walking through the graves I understood that this character was a very different man than who I thought he was. He began to take form. To speak for himself.
What Have I Accomplished Here?
I don’t want to say too much, as things change between the musing and the actual writing and then again during revision. But, these are some of the things that have come to light while I’ve been working here:
Names and descriptions of most of the major characters
Backstory (names, dates, and connections) for the major characters along with the emotional wounds that drive them—thanks to The Emotional Wound Thesaurus for help with this. Most of this never shows up in the story but it’s vital for the writer to know.
How my character lives in her Ordinary World before tragedy strikes and she must venture out on her journey.
The first few scenes: where they are set, what happens, and why (cause and effect)
I’m wondering if I should call the island Saltspring or perhaps make it a fictional place and call it, say, Pepperpot Island. Personally, I like to read about real places that I can visit. But, what do you think?
See Ya Later, Saltspring!
What Now?
Tomorrow, I’m off to Vancouver Island to revisit the lighthouse at Yuquot/Friendly Cove where I stayed for two months in 2014. This is where Gracelyn must go to unravel her mystery. So, I will tread in her footsteps because that is where the magic happens.
Saltspring Island is one of the most unique and beautiful places on Earth. Today on our morning ramble, we discovered a pathway of poppies glittering in the sun. Is there a better way to begin a day?
p.s. The Rainbow Road is where I’m staying;)
I tend to live in seven-year-cycles. So, it’s no surprise that I’m returning to Saltspring Island this summer to research a new book. My dream dog, Puddy, came with me last time. It was his last trip. Puddy loved to travel, especially aboard the ferries. This summer, I’ll be taking Skaha along. Puddy was eleven—Skaha is ten-months-old.
Saltspring is the largest of the Gulf Islands in the Salish Sea. An artist’s haven, with an agricultural and environmental legacy, it is wildly beautiful and inspiring. Memories of 2011 below. What awaits us in 2018? I can’t wait to find out.
Sweet smokes seeps from your mouth to mine Filling me, willing me, to come, with you Shaman farmer crafter chef poet eco-warrior I want to know you; grow with you Dirty my fingers in fecund folds Drop seeds, bulbs, words, deep in sea-rich soil Then wait through sun and wind and rain Gestating magic cradled by leathered hands You are man and woman, yin and yang, androgynous lover Mesmerized by diamond shrouded seas, sun-kissed hair blowing free My flesh accepts your strong and briny light, your long and silent night Braid my hair with gems and blossoms, bound fast with vines Amber, sapphire, scarlet, peach, cobalt, pearly white Scrape my skin with black slate stones transfusing flesh and blood And when rootless I dance off, leaving only my bare footprint in your sand Fill it with Byzantine light, a beacon to lure me back.
We use cookies to ensure that we give you the best experience on our website. If you continue to use this site we will assume that you are happy with it.OkNoPrivacy policy
It was a perfect day of sun and fair breezes and the calm waters certainly felt healing. The captain said that humpback whales often come into Muchalaht Channel. All around Nootka Sound, salmon fishermen were hoisting their catch to show off their prizes.
But I am setting a murder mystery here, so was most interested in locations where one might kill someone without being seen and hide something precious. This landscape is not new to killing.
In 1788, Maquinna (the Mowachacht chief) sent his people aboard The Boston to repay many insults—including the murder of his brother-in-law—by European sailors. The entire crew was murdered and decapitated except for the blacksmith John Jewitt, and the sailmaker who hid below. Maquinna needed Jewitt’s skills so kept him alive, and Jewitt convinced Maquinna that the sailmaker was his father. Jewitt lived three years as part of Maquinna’s family, wrote his story on the dead captain’s paper, and eventually returned to Boston where it was published.
In my mind, I saw an old family home on the northwest side of the island, with a large porch, lots of natural wood, board and batten, cedar-shaked, surrounded by pine and arbutus trees. It looks something like this and fits well with the history and culture of this island. But, I also wanted it to overlook the sea and have a dock where one of the characters could keep his fishing boat. The other day, after much beach ambling, I found one similar enough to work for me and make it viable.
As I said, sometimes you think something will work but when you actually see it and walk it, you realize it’s all wrong. When I first came here, I wanted to set the first scene in an old Anglican Cemetery. I researched churches and cemeteries and visited two. Neither felt right. Neither had cemeteries where someone could be buried in 2017. And then I realized that the person who died wouldn’t choose an Anglican Cemetery anyway. Walking through the graves I understood that this character was a very different man than who I thought he was. He began to take form. To speak for himself.
