A certain age verges on New Age off the B.C. coast
Chat turns mellow on spiritual sailing trip to two islands
Diary from Scaurend Thursday, May 24, Victoria: This was a spiritual trip I was on with my lawyer friend Jim Scott. It was 38 years ago that he was introduced to sailing by the late Mr. Justice Ross McBain, of the Alberta Court of Queen’s Bench, and he wanted to make one last sailing trip to the church at Poets Cove on Pender Island.
“My back has been troubling me a great deal,” Scott told me. “I plan to sell my sailboat and buy a power boat.” He remembered sailing with Justice McBain to Bedwell Harbour on Pender Island and spending some meditative time in a small church there. When life’s storms gather, he often thinks of the peace at that small church.
Also on our journey on Jim’s 12-metre cutter-rigged sailboat, Scaurend, were Peter Parmar and his wife Simrit. They had bought the trip to support Kids with Cancer at a Pinot on the Patio fundraiser at the Royal Glenora Club. He invited as his guests Fred Filthaut, former senior vice-president CTV West, and his wife Eileen, retired senior operations officer with Caritas Health. “Afternoon tea at the Fairmont Empress Hotel this afternoon cost us about $150,” Fred said when he met us at Victoria airport. Outrageous gouging, I thought. When the tea custom began in 1908, it was only $1.
Friday, May 25: Set sail from Brentwood Bay on the tip of Vancouver Island for Ganges, the bustling town halfway up Saltspring Island. We didn’t actually sail. There was no wind. But we sailors like to talk about setting sail. Actually, Jim’s new Westerbeke, a $10,000, 44-horsepower engine, phut-phutted over in about three hours. The Ganges market is jammed with artists, many of whom look like hippies. There are also sculptors, vegetable growers and kids selling lemonade.
Barbecued, fresh-caught salmon for supper, washed down with copious amounts of New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc. Very mellow discussion. I admitted at times I could be New Age. Saturday, May 26: Everyone layered with large splashes of sunscreen as we set off for Poets Cove, the luxury spa and resort in Bedwell Harbour on Pender Island. Peter, who had served as the resort’s general manager and president of the hotel and marina, noted the lack of boats in the marina, usually worth in the hundreds of millions of dollars. A staff member told us many Americans have sold their boats to keep their homes, or they are staying south now that the Canadian dollar is about par with the American.
There was a glorious wedding taking place on the hotel balcony overlooking the marina. I wasn’t sure whether he was serious or not, but Fred said he’d seen a movie about crashing weddings and knew how to do it. But we didn’t have a jacket or a pair of pants between us and settled for a jug (or two) of beer on the patio while Jim went off to recharge his spirit at the Church of the Good Shepherd. It was closed and he sat outside in thought. It must have been thirsty work. On return, he quickly downed two gin and tonics. Sunday, May 27: Simrit, who doesn’t swim, was petrified when we finally unfurled the sails and spent 3 1/2 hours sailing down to Genoa Bay.
Everyone else was exhilarated. The top starboard rail of Scaurend dipped under the waves at times as we made about 10 km/h. Peter’s hat blew overboard and disappeared. Fred wanted another beer. But everyone was just hanging on. There was a demon’s glint in Jim’s eyes. He was sailing around the world in 2006 when he had to be hospitalized after bacteria attacked his aortic valve.
“Every day I think of returning to finish my sail,” he said. “I think I’d head to Japan first.”
Over a halibut meal in the Genoa Bay Cafe, in Cowichan Bay on the southern end of Vancouver Island, Jim was moved to say: “I think I will have to delay any notion of selling Scaurend for two years. It’s not often you experience the kind of wind and fun we had today.”
Genoa Bay is a rustic hideaway, full of colourful floating homes and ancient wooden sailboats and I thought the atmosphere might have intoxicated him. (I’m almost sure it wasn’t our shared two bottles of Pinot Noir.) Monday, May 28: Heading home after a good night’s sleep, Jim, an atheist, was still passionate about sailing again. I believe he had a spiritual moment at the church. I’m sending him an “I’m a New Ager” T-shirt. Let me know if you see him wearing it.