Tag: family

Echinoderms and Hippie Ghosts: Gabriola Island, BC

Before departing from the land of hockey and poutine, we took a day trip to Gabriola, a small and stunningly beautiful island that sits between Vancouver Island and the mainland.

Gabriola is known for its natural beauty and for being a wellspring of creative culture, due in large part to an influx of draft dodgers during the 60’s and 70’s. The island even features a small museum with an entire exhibit devoted to the history of hippie communes on Gabriola. (Ironically, these counterculture transplants were probably seeking the freedom to live a meaningful and nature-based life not unlike that of the native Snunéymux, who were all but eradicated from Gabriola by European diseases in the 1500’s.)

We spent most of our time on a gorgeous cerulean beach fringed with ghostly mountains in the distance, clambering from one tidepool to the next to spy on all manner of crusty and crawly things.

Each square foot of this beach held its own miniature universe, crowded with crabs, anemones, barnacles, abandoned shells, seaweed, and, yes, the occasional brilliant starfish. It was easy to spend several minutes hunched over a particular tidepool in silent reverie, witnessing its zoological microdramas — but when you finally came back to yourself and looked around you, the scenery struck you speechless all over again.

As if the breathtaking beaches aren’t enough, Gabriola, like Vancouver Island, is also home to a particularly lovely tree called the arbutus — or, by doting locals, “arbeauties.” Their dusty red trunks have a sort of wistful slant, like someone twisting to look out a window as they lose themselves to a daydream.

My favorite tree, however — which my aunt Holly pointed out to us several times, with a characteristic reverence for noteworthy strangeness — is the Monkey Puzzle Tree. It’s called this presumably because even a monkey couldn’t figure out how to climb its jagged, cactus-like branches.

Holly insisted on taking a picture of me, Sean, and my brother Van in front of this tree. I think she captured the towering weirdness that is the Monkey Puzzle Tree, and also maybe just a bit of that profound silliness that sometimes happens when you hang around people who have known you since you were in diapers.

Speaking of people who know me all too well, our next major destination is Madison, Wisconsin, where we’ll be staying with some good friends of mine for a month or so while we replenish our trip budget. Do I even remember how to eat cheese curds? Does Sean understand what a high of 40 degrees in October actually means? We’ll find out.

    One Mile, Many Years: Chico, CA

    It’s a blessing and a curse to have a family as far-flung as mine. Not only do we occupy remote and disparate corners of the continent, our geographic history is all over the place: my dad grew up in Nevada, my mom in Ohio. They met in California, then moved to Virginia and later Iowa. Growing up, visiting the grandparents meant at least one full day in the car (sometimes three or more, if we were going to Grandpa’s).

    Fortunately, a good portion of my extended family has at least managed to occupy the same time zone. Starting at my dad’s place down at the Southern tip of Baja, we could drive North in a more or less straight line and find my brother, uncle, and grandma in California, and eventually my aunt in Vancouver Island.

    My grandma and uncle live in Chico, California, which is actually reasonably close to a halfway point between my family’s Mexican and Canadian outposts. When Sean and I arrived in Chico after visiting San Francisco, Grandma surprised me with some old photos of her own roadtrip to San Francisco back in the 50’s.

    Grandma Carolyn taking in the Painted Desert on the way from Indiana to California.

    I’ve often wondered what it would be like to share photos of my youth with any future generations that might be interested. Will I just direct them to my Facebook page? Will they be able to view my entire life story in photographs just by scanning my face with their brain chips? Quite possibly — but I think these generations will miss out on the satisfaction of holding real photographs (by the edges!) in their hands, turning the crackling pages of a leather-bound album inscribed with dates and names in tidy cursive.

    Great-grandpa Carl entertaining my aunt Holly and uncle Joel with his juggling skills.

    We also went through some more recent photos, including a few shots of my childhood home that sent me on a visceral nostalgia trip. That house was bulldozed to make room for a hog farm several years ago (because, Iowa), but that obliteration is perhaps no less strange than having to see someone else living in the house you grew up in.

    Decorating Easter cookies at the kitchen table. (Also, the last recorded instance of me being able to pull off overalls.)

    Besides the trip down memory lane, Sean and I had a sweet visit full of good food and great weather. While my uncle and grandma were occupied during the day, we explored downtown Chico and lazed about at the local (literal) watering hole, One Mile.

    After Chico, we’ll head up towards the Northern extreme of my familial diaspora — my aunt Holly in Vancouver Island — and hit some fun spots in the Northwest along the way. Stay tuned for Portland, Bend, Olympia, and Seattle!