False Bay

We've been enjoying the most lovely September that I can ever remember in my thirty four years of living here. Typically, you don't need to look at the calender to know that September has arrived. Usually the continuous rain and cold winds leave no doubt in anyone's mind that winter is on the way. Most years, by mid- September the mountains over at Homeshore would have terminaion dust on them. That's the first light dusting of snow that shows on the higher elevations. That's sure not the case this year. The weather has been unseasonably warm...hot even. I don't want to complain, but I probably will anyway. I just worry that all this sunny,dry weather will play havoc with the salmon. We need all the rain we usually receive at this time of year so the creeks will fill up and provide a good place for spawning. Fortunately I never had to worry about whether or not it rained- we had kids in all kinds of weather. Oh well- enough of that. As I was saying, this weather has been so enjoyable that you just can't stay inside. I feel bad for anyone who has an inside job when it's this nice outside. Last Sunday Jan and I decided to take a drive out to False Bay. It's down Chatham Straits aways, between Whitestone Harbor and Freshwater Bay. It would probably take me about five hours to get there in my boat. By car it was almost an hour and a half. The sign says it's only twenty five miles from the city limits, but there are stretches of the road that are so rough, that driving at much beyond twenty miles an hour is almost a guarantee that you'll break something on your vehicle or perhaps something on yourself. Jan made the mistake of taking a half cup of coffee with her on our trip out there. She didn't end up wearing it all, but suffice it to say, if she had been wearing a pair of dining trousers,as I mentioned in my last blog entry, she wouldn't have suffered the discomfort of wet clothes. False Bay is one of my favorite places to go for an outing. Perhaps it's the uncomfortable trip getting there, or just the anticipation of what awaits you, but when you first break out of the woods and get that first glimpse of blue-green water and the tree-lined rocky shore, theres a feeling like when you were a kid on your way to the county fair and see the top of the ferris wheel. You know it's going to be fun- and it was. Jan had the foresight to bring a few plastic chairs and a newspaper. We had the good fortune of having the place all to ourselves and when we set up the chairs in front of the fire pit, there were still hot coals burning from the folks who had just left. I did a little beachcombing for some driftwood and added to the coals, so we were able to keep the fire going while we were there. The beach there is great for searching for driftwood or shells or rocks. Whenever my daughter Jen goes there she always seems to find oyster shells or some other neat thing. I always manage to find bear poop. I don't know why they would like to come close to the beach like that, but they do. Aside from the poop , I also found three sea urchin shells in really good shape and a big barnacle and a pink shell of some kind, possibly a scallop. Jan likes to keep that kind of stuff up in the bathroom upstairs in a basket. My son Brian joined us later. He brought his four-wheeler out. He pulled up a chair next to the fire and almost immediately the smoke started blowing into his face. Usually that's what happens to me. It's really funny when it happens to someone else. It's like that shirt that says-" It's funny until it happens to someone else- then it's hilarious!" There's something about me and campfires, we just don't seem to be compatable. When I was twelve I got in trouble with the cops because of a campfire. Someone called them because they thought we were going to burn down Indian Mounds. It wouldn't have happened, but how would they know. It seems that I must have inadvertantly passed my bad luck on to the kids. That incident with Brian and the wandering smoke is so typical. No matter where you go to try to get away from it, the wind shifts and directs it right into your eyes. Then there's Jen and the dissapearing hot dogs. False Bay is where we were when she lost two weinies to the fire. She had them on a stick and both times the end of the stick burned to the point that the weight of the hot dogs broke it and the whole mess fell in the fire. Two times in a row! We're thinking about going out to Freshwater Bay tomorrow. Jennifer is supposed to come with us. I think I'll ask her to bring hot dogs.