Our New Year was crisp, cold and clear - almost unseasonal for the coast, and an improvement on grey skies and precipitation. We spent Christmas in Vancouver with Sarah's family, appreciating traditional over-eating - roast turkey with all the fixings - as well as big city cuisine, of which Gyoza King, a Japanese izakaya, was the highlight.
We went to a Canucks game on Boxing Day, Vancouver playing the storied Edmonton Oilers (less storied these days, but rebuilding with lively youth). Down 0-2, Vancouver scored the winning goal with 24 seconds to play, final score 3-2. I've been to four Canucks games (batting .500 so far) and what I enjoy about the live experience is the sound of skates on ice, bodies caroming into the boards, the scents of frozen ice and spilled beer. Ice hockey is a dynamic game, more so than most other professional sports, with players legging over the boards and subbing on the fly, the action up and down the rink - like basketball, but without the high scores of basketball. Unlike rugby or soccer, no one talks about the referees after the game. They call the odd infraction but remain mostly invisible. Vancouver are sitting atop the NHL as the season approaches its midpoint (they play a mind-boggling 82 regular season games; teams that win the Stanley Cup can potentially play 110 games. Sure, it doesn't have the physicality of rugby, but these guys aren't figure skaters. Think about the last time you fell over on ice - frozen H2O is solid).
Speaking of Edmonton, my favourite image of the Vancouver Olympics.
Returning to the island, Sarah and I hit our local mountain with our Christmas gifts, Atlas snow shoes. If you're thinking wooden tennis racquets, you're thinking wrong. We made our way out to a frozen lake, and rambled on our return. Following trails is easy but forging new paths requires a bit of legwork. Going off-trail is more fun though - we ended up on the eastern edge of the ski resort, overlooking the Georgia Strait and the carved tracks of the snowmobilers. La Nina is truly in effect with tonnes of snow on the mountain: 520 centimetres was Mt. Washington ski resort's recorded snowbase. The whiskey jacks were as persistent as ever.
Grey Jay visiting during our lunch.
Cruising on Lake Helen Mackenzie.
Our New Years was spent here, at Moutcha Bay resort on the west coast of the island, about two hours drive from Campbell River. Our friend Dave is managing the resort, currently undergoing the final stages of a construction project. The resort was closed so the dozen of us (and our pack of dogs) had the run of the place. The plan was to slay prawns, but unfortunately the ocean froze on us and the boat was going nowhere. Two rivers feed into Moutcha Bay and the inlet is quite narrow, limiting the movement of water, but it was still a surprise to see salt water freeze on the balmy west coast (Canada's retirement paradise). We were able to bash holes in the ice and drop the traps off the dock for enough prawns for breakfast, and we collected oysters from beneath the frozen layer. New Year's Day we toured to Tahsis, at the end of the road, and had a beer at the local pub, the kind of joint where conversation dies and everyone looks you over as you walk through the door. They were great hosts though, putting on a free spread of Eve party leftovers after we learned the kitchen was closed (FYI: there's an opening for a chef in Tahsis).
Moutcha Bay Resort in the making.
The tidal flow and consequent ice movement soundtracked our weekend.
Gathering oysters from beneath the ice at low tide.
Grayson and Alana cheers-ing New Year's Eve.
Dave, our host, and Wanda - plus Nala, Chutney, Laddie, and under-utilized prawn traps.
On the road to Tahsis.
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