Wednesday, June 30, 2021

Ofam in Tofino - Day 3

The Plan had been to get up and be on the beach before noon. 

Plan. Schman. 

Meet Pesco. (Pay so)

He's Jeff and Suzanne's dog. (Our landlords.) (They're super friendly folks.)

They own two restaurants in town, as well as one in Baja Mexico. Jeff used to have a fishing boat as well, but sold it recently. He offered us some fresh halibut, but we asked for salmon instead. Haha. 

I now have two salmon in the freezer. 

By the way, their BnB is booked every single night til end of November. 



Dani and I made bacon, eggs, hashbrowns for brunch, then we rolled down to the surf and sand in the early afternoon. The O's on vacation. We are never in a hurry to do anything in the mornings. I raised em right. 

While everyone else in BC was in Day One of The Great Heat Wave of '21, we were very comfortable on the veriest west coast of Canada:

According to Jeff, Tofino was experiencing record high's as well. But at 25 degrees with a breeze off the ocean IT WAS BLOODY PERFECT. 

We were all just so happy.

I know. ALL OF US. In agreement about something. I revelled in the joy of it all. 

They all wore between 30 and 100 SPF. 

I wore 8 on my face/chest and 4 oil on my legs and arms. I inherited my dad's skin. And my mom's body. And both their teeth. 

I walked again. (I really love walking on hard, level sand, with my barefeet in the water. I coulda easily done 200,000 steps this way.)

Dani joined me. 

She has such a tender heart. 

She tried to save the jelly fish that looked to be in danger of drying out:

Go little jelly fish. Live your best life. 
Have lots of babies.

My fam. On the sand. As the tide comes in.
I love them:

I went back to house and prepared a late afternoon picnic that I brought back to the beach:

Lookit me being all healthy and mom-like. 
(Not pictured are two large bags of chips.)

Supper on Saturday night was at 1909 Kitchen , right in the marina. As per usual, we ordered, ate, then doggy-bagged a ton of food. 

After 48 hours on the island, we'd established some traditions, as you do. 

And so when we got back to the barn after dinner, we wandered down to the beach to watch the sun set. 
How often do you get to be on the westest coast of a country during a record-breaking heat wave? (Well, I guess if the Climate Change people are correct, we'll be breaking weather records every year, which takes away the specialness of this particular one... BUT STILL.) 

We were on the beach. And the sun set. 
And it was no less breath-taking than the night before. 

We went back to our place (I'm SO thankful it was just 50 steps between the barn and the beach. We went back n forth so often, ALL DAY LONG) to grab our firewood. 

Dani and I went back to get our roasting sticks and a hotdog supplies when my phone rang. 
"Mom? Don't bother bringing anything. The police are here. We've had to put out our fire."

It wasn't personal, but for the first time in forever, I guess the bylaw officer (with an RCMP officer in tow) felt he should enforce a campfire-on-the-beach rule that every fire has to be in a container. And 8 litres of water should be nearby. (The ocean, which was a few steps away, didn't count as your 8 litres of water.) 

All along the mile-long beach, small family fires in front of homes were being put out. On Thursday night, when we arrived, it looked like beacons were being lit every 100 yards or so, declaring that Clan Fraser and Clan MacKenzie had arrived. We loved adding Clan O's fire to string of family fires along the beach on Friday night. The moon and stars above us, the ocean in front of us, and beach fires beside us. It was magical. 

But after thousands of years of tradition, it all changed on Saturday night. 

So. Our fire was extinguished and with it, our enthusiasm for the evening was doused as well. 
Gathering up all our festive fire things we grumbled under our breath as we trudged back to the barn, stopping to read the CAMPFIRE RULES sign on the path that we previously had ignored. 

I sat outside and read my book.

Dani went to bed with an ice pack (she'd burnt her hand on the fire) and her book. Clint sat at the kitchen table/his office desk, getting ready for his video shoot the following day. And Drew introduced Max to the wonder of Formula 1: Thrive to Strive on Netflix. After an hour, I joined them. (To their horror, I had binged on Season 3 last week. "INTENTIONALLY you CHOSE to watch the THIRD SEASON without watching the first two season? WHAT IT WRONG WITH YOU? WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? Was it user error? You didn't realize it? WHAT? WHY?)

And if they are reading this blog it is likely driving them mental that I has misnamed the show. It's actually called: Formula 1: DRIVE TO SURVIVE. Relax, boys. 

And I guess that's the end of Day 3; Saturday, June 26 in the 2,021st year of our Lord. 

Three things I was probably thankful for on that day:

1. That Dani had looked after making dinner reservations months ago. 
2. That sunsets are never boring.
3. That my kids get along and enjoy each other's company. 
4. That we all have jobs. 
5. That I had the privilege of being able, after ten years, to have a vacation with them. 
6. That I live in such an amazingly beautiful part of the world. 


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