It's raining, It's pouring... the old man is NOT snoring! But then, why would he be? Why would anyone be? We have landed on what appears to be a very deserted Vancouver Island. Island beach paradise it is not.... Large land mass (equal to that of England) of quaint little towns it most certainly is!
Our journey to Cumberland was nothing short of traumatic. We arrived at the bus stop in ample time,with adequate bus fare. Catching a bus... how hard can it be? Very as it goes. Firstly, bus stops are hard to spot. Mere poles protruding from the ground. Canadians queue at the bus stop, how wonderfully British we thought. No,No! We quickly deducted that this was aimless queuing, regardless if their bus was next or not. For fear of joining the back of the queue and those in front not getting on... we stood our ground away from the curb, undeterred. Turns out everyone was queuing for our bus - the horse shoe bay express. Typical! In addition to our aforementioned anguish, upon reaching the bus driver we discovered...'Change only!' For the $4 fare Sam had $3.65 and I a measly $2.95. We ashamedly took our seats nonetheless. Nightmare! The ferry proved to be a better, less complex mode of transport for our comprehension. And as for the 'Island Link' bus service, it collected the grand total of four passengers before chaperoning us around the island. We got chatting to a rather enthusiastic lady named Bernadette, who advised us on countless places to visit and regaled us with tales of Black Bears and man eating Cougars. That's right, they roam free about the island here. Be safe, Be vigilant... Be Bear Aware!
Cumberland is an enchanting town that alludes the charm of an old western. With a population of under 3000 (I challenge this as we only ever saw a maximum of three people at any one time) it happily survives on one main street. Lined with one library, one post office, one bakery, one butchers, one clothes shop and....one tattoo parlour?!?
On our second day in Cumberland we arose to the sound of pitta patta.... it was raining... obviously. Thermal under layers and freshly bought (second hand) gilet making it's debut we departed on foot.... for the motorway. We'd heard a rumour that a bright yellow school bus had been spotted ferrying ski cladded, multicoloured wearing youths up the mountain... we wanted in on that! We sat on the hard shoulder with no real expectations that any such yellow vehicle would materialise, but sure enough it did. So we gallantly hopped on. Excited, surprised and somewhat confused as to how we had made it onto our desired shuttle we fell asleep to the sound of the falling rain. Only to be awoken a short while later by the glare of snow... perfectly white... perfectly untouched. We had made it to the summit of Mount Washington. We queued with the masses of snowboarders and skiiers and swanned up to the desk to eagerly ask for 'Snow Shoes'. We were met with puzzled expressions. Apparently no one ever asks for them. But, find them they did, and strap giant tennis racket like devices to our feet we did.
Walking through the the icy desert was effortless thanks to the strange contraptions strapped on our feet. We set out to explore the top of our Christmas cake. Everything that surrounded us was so beautiful, it really did look as though it had been freshly dusted with icing sugar. We found ourselves alone as we hiked through the trails and often heard thuds of snow falling from the trees under their weight. We first mistook it for something chasing us... a pack of wolves perhaps? We questioned our bear aware skills and realised that we didn't know any! We soon found an angelic spot and decided to settle down for lunch.... a tin of baked beans. Yum! We then made fresh snow angels before setting forth in the show once again. It was hard work wading through the deep snow all day, our thighs burned from the built up lactic acid, but it was worth every drop.
Our journey to Cumberland was nothing short of traumatic. We arrived at the bus stop in ample time,with adequate bus fare. Catching a bus... how hard can it be? Very as it goes. Firstly, bus stops are hard to spot. Mere poles protruding from the ground. Canadians queue at the bus stop, how wonderfully British we thought. No,No! We quickly deducted that this was aimless queuing, regardless if their bus was next or not. For fear of joining the back of the queue and those in front not getting on... we stood our ground away from the curb, undeterred. Turns out everyone was queuing for our bus - the horse shoe bay express. Typical! In addition to our aforementioned anguish, upon reaching the bus driver we discovered...'Change only!' For the $4 fare Sam had $3.65 and I a measly $2.95. We ashamedly took our seats nonetheless. Nightmare! The ferry proved to be a better, less complex mode of transport for our comprehension. And as for the 'Island Link' bus service, it collected the grand total of four passengers before chaperoning us around the island. We got chatting to a rather enthusiastic lady named Bernadette, who advised us on countless places to visit and regaled us with tales of Black Bears and man eating Cougars. That's right, they roam free about the island here. Be safe, Be vigilant... Be Bear Aware!
Cumberland is an enchanting town that alludes the charm of an old western. With a population of under 3000 (I challenge this as we only ever saw a maximum of three people at any one time) it happily survives on one main street. Lined with one library, one post office, one bakery, one butchers, one clothes shop and....one tattoo parlour?!?
On our second day in Cumberland we arose to the sound of pitta patta.... it was raining... obviously. Thermal under layers and freshly bought (second hand) gilet making it's debut we departed on foot.... for the motorway. We'd heard a rumour that a bright yellow school bus had been spotted ferrying ski cladded, multicoloured wearing youths up the mountain... we wanted in on that! We sat on the hard shoulder with no real expectations that any such yellow vehicle would materialise, but sure enough it did. So we gallantly hopped on. Excited, surprised and somewhat confused as to how we had made it onto our desired shuttle we fell asleep to the sound of the falling rain. Only to be awoken a short while later by the glare of snow... perfectly white... perfectly untouched. We had made it to the summit of Mount Washington. We queued with the masses of snowboarders and skiiers and swanned up to the desk to eagerly ask for 'Snow Shoes'. We were met with puzzled expressions. Apparently no one ever asks for them. But, find them they did, and strap giant tennis racket like devices to our feet we did.
Walking through the the icy desert was effortless thanks to the strange contraptions strapped on our feet. We set out to explore the top of our Christmas cake. Everything that surrounded us was so beautiful, it really did look as though it had been freshly dusted with icing sugar. We found ourselves alone as we hiked through the trails and often heard thuds of snow falling from the trees under their weight. We first mistook it for something chasing us... a pack of wolves perhaps? We questioned our bear aware skills and realised that we didn't know any! We soon found an angelic spot and decided to settle down for lunch.... a tin of baked beans. Yum! We then made fresh snow angels before setting forth in the show once again. It was hard work wading through the deep snow all day, our thighs burned from the built up lactic acid, but it was worth every drop.
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