Last Hurrah

When we stayed in Vancouver at the beginning of the trip the weather was mostly gloomy, so when the sun set grandly Monday evening and then rose again brightly Tuesday morning we wished that our departure for home could have been delayed for another day or to to let us see B.C.'s biggest city under brilliantly clear skies.  But since our flight to San Francisco wasn't scheduled to depart until nearly 4 pm and the airport was no farther than 30 minutes from our hotel, we had at least a few final hours to spend sightseeing.  During a late and leisurely breakfast in the hotel's Dockside restaurant we weighed the options for our last day of the trip.

It was a cool and damp day when we toured Granville Island two weeks earlier so we could have just left our car parked next to the hotel, strolled around the island in the sunshine for a couple of hours, had lunch in the Public Market, and then checked out of the hotel, tossed our bags into the rental car, and headed to YVR to catch our flight. Or we could have ridden a water taxi across False Creek and wandered around the shops in Yaletown before returning to the island to retrieve our bags and drive to the airport.  A walk along the bike and pedestrian path on the south shore across from the island was another close-by alternative.

If we had arisen much earlier that morning, driving through downtown Vancouver and out to the city's grandest green space, Stanley Park, would have been possible.  But not enough time remained for that outing.  In the end, Queen Elizabeth Park, south of Granville Island, and just east of the route we'd follow to get to the airport, was the most sensible final-day tourist stop.
 
The park originally was a basalt quarry owned by the Canadian Pacific Railway which sold it to the city and two other municipalities in 1928.  In 1940 the park was named after the consort of King George VI of Great Britain who, along with his queen, visited Vancouver in 1939.

What was once a rocky expanse is now hillside gardens and lawns, planted in and around the pits of the original quarry. At an overlook the fanciful bronze sculpture of a photographer directs three park visitors to pose for a "Wish You Were Here" shot with sweeping views of the city and mountains to the north in the background.

When we visited the park on our 2004 trip we toured the Bloedel Floral Conservatory housed in a geodesic dome at the top of the park.  Today it was closed to the public.  Film crews and catering and equipment trucks were lined up outside the building, but we never learned what event was being held or what film or commercial was being shot inside.

On our last visit we had a fine lunch at the restaurant near the conservatory, but since we had been stuffing our faces with food for two weeks and had breakfasted only a couple hours earlier and weren't very hungry, we decided to put off our mid-day meal until after arriving at the airport.

We filled up the Camry at an Esso station on Granville Street, leaving a large wad of our Canadian dollars behind.  About ten minutes later we turned the car in at the airport and headed to the terminal to check in for our flight.

Although there are several flights a day between Vancouver and San Francisco, there were only a few people in line at the United counter.   We passed through the security checkpoint and U.S. Customs and Immigration fairly quickly, and then set out looking for a sit-down restaurant.

YVR is bright and roomy.  The glass and tubal steel design in the gate area reminded me of similar architecture at the Montreal Airport.  (Maybe Canada pre-fabs its airports, like giant Lego pieces, and trucks them around the country for local installation).

Although the airport design is high-tech and pleasant, the dining options are fairly dismal.  We settled for grilled-cheese sandwiches from a cafeteria-style joint called "Pacific Grill."  Kids romped in a nearby "playground" area between the departure gates.

As on the flight up from San Francisco, we sat in seats 6B and 6C in the first row of the "Economy Plus" section right behind the First Class cabin, and had no "row mate" so once again the two of us had three seats to ourselves.  We left on time and arrived in San Francisco about 10-15 minutes earlier than scheduled.

During the flight south Cindy (sitting in the window seat on the left side of the plane) spotted several of the Cascade volcanic peaks:  Baker, Rainer, Adams, and Hood.  Skies over Oregon were a bit cloudy, but had cleared by the time we reached the Point Reyes peninsula.  The plane banked sharply left and we could see the town of Point Reyes Station below us and the hills around the Nicasio reservoir to the east.

United 887 flew over San Anselmo, crossed the Bay Bridge, swung south towards San Jose, did a 180 degree right turn onto its final approach into SFO, switched its choice of runway from 28 Right to 28 Left, and touched down two hours after we left Vancouver.

The plane pulled up to Gate 90 at the very far end of the SFO North Terminal, the longest possible distance from the baggage claim area.  Unlike the relatively quiet Vancouver Airport, SFO was bustling with arriving and departing passengers and the bars we passed were full of patrons watching big screen TVs while drinking away their fear of flying, their sorrows, or sheer boredom.

We had a relatively long wait to collect our bags and probably just missed catching the Marin Airporter bus about 6:30 pm.  An hour later we were on the Golden Gate Bridge headed Larkspur, and thanks to Ellanor's Taxi and Soup Delivery Service, by 8 o'clock the trip was over and we were home with both luggage and dinner in-hand.

Seeing The U.S.A. From Our Chevrolet

Well, we didn't have a Chevy, we had a Toyota, but we did use it to see the U.S.A. while still in British Columbia.

We left Naramata about 9:30 Tuesday morning, stopped in Penticton for gas, and then headed south on Highway 97 past Skaha Lake.  The clouds that had obscured the sun the last two days had blown away completely and it looked to be a fine day for driving through the countryside.

Before reaching Oliver we swung southwest onto Highway 3A and drove through a narrow valley dotted with a few farms.  Signs along the road to Ollala shouting "No National Park!" reflected the divergent views on saving land in this area from future development.

When we reached the town of Keremeos a towering wall of mountains to the south blocked passage in that direction.  We turned right and continued our travels westward toward Vancouver upstream along the course of the Similkameen River.  At Princeton we stopped at the tourist information office and learned that we if drove up into the mountains at Manning Park an hour or so to the west we should be able to see the mountains to the south in Washington on the other side of the U.S.-Canadian border.

We left the river valley behind at Princeton and began climbing into the Canadian Cascade Mountain Range.  Paving work being done on the highway slowed us down a bit and at East Gate we bought some "Famous Amos" cookies to quell our hunger pangs after learning to our dismay that Dave's East Gate Diner --- a lunch spot recommended by a woman at the Princeton tourist office --- was closed Tuesdays.

We finally had a late lunch at Manning Park Resort after stopping for a brief, futile hunt for beavers in a pond next to the road.  Then we drove to a lookout point high in the hills opposite the resort where the clear skies allowed us to almost reach out and touch several peaks in the states including Sheep Mountain, Mount Winthrop, and Mount Hozomeen.

By then it 2:30 pm and we were only half-way to Vancouver with two to three hours of driving ahead of us, so the pedal got pushed towards the metal.  On the straight, four-lane stretches of divided highway we shot along at over 100 KPH, but then the road would narrow to two lanes and twist its way over and down the divide between watersheds and we'd slow to 60, 40, or 30 or less.

At one highway construction zone we pulled over to allow traffic behind us to pass, then jumped back onto the road when cars behind us were stopped by a big backhoe moving across the westbound lanes.  As we picked up speed to shot pass a black bear grazing in the grass on the south shoulder --- the first and only such beast we'd seen during the trip that didn't appear on a sign or brochure warning us we were in bear country.

At Hope Highway 3 merged with Highway 5 descending from Kamloops and Highway 1 from Cache Creek which we'd passed through a week earlier and which now became the final route that we would follow all of the way to Vancouver.  Seven days earlier we had crossed the Fraser River at Lillooet; now it accompanied us as we headed toward the Pacific Ocean where both it, and we, would conclude our respective journeys.

Semis exceeding the 100 KPH speed limit dogged us on the down-slope, then fell behind on the upgrades, then finally passed us as the road flattened out and the river valley widened.  The mountains that had been hugging us closely as we drove through the Cascades began to slowly step back from the highway, a few paces at a time, until they no longer blocked sunlight flooding the valley from the southwest.

An hour or so east of Vancouver around Abbotsford (shown in the promotional photo on the right) I looked in the rear-view mirror to check for big rigs bearing down on us and instead so a giant ice-cream cone:  Snow covered Mount Baker, miles away in Washington State.  By now heavy traffic was flowing in the opposite direction and became stop-and-go as we neared the city.

We had slow going as we neared the end of our day's drive.  Long stretches of Highway 1 were under construction and once we reached Vancouver, we met homeward bound workers on the city streets.

Finally, about 5:15 pm, we arrived at the Granville Island Hotel, our sixth and final lodging of the trip. After checking in, we walked along the waterfront that wraps around the east end of the island where the hotel is located.  A few houseboats are moored along False Creek and there is a marina next to the hotel.  The warm sun, within a hour of setting, glinted off the windows in the high-rise buildings on the city side of the inlet.  Two women sat around a glass-enclosed outdoor fireplace at the hotel's bar.

Although there were probably hundreds of restaurants within a 10 minute drive, at 20 or 30 within walking distance, we decided to eat in the hotel restaurant.  Although the bar was busy, only four or five tables were occupied in the dining room.

Our server, Marko, had come to Canada from Croatia.  He had never been to the U.S. even though it was just a few miles away.  To get a visa would have taken too much time and effort he said.  But that would soon change:  He was about to take the citizenship test and if he passed, he would be a Canadian national and could much more easily cross the border.

Slowville

After discovering that we couldn't trade in a our rented Toyota for one of Nixdorf's cool 1950's cars, we drove into downtown Summerland looking for a place to eat lunch.  Just as we discovered a week ago in Squamish, nearly everything but gas stations, fast-food restaurants, and grocery stores shut down on Sundays in B.C.  But the Carrot Top Diner was open for business, so we joined one other couple (whose young son was snoozing away the early afternoon in his stroller) as the only lunch-time patrons in this Mom and Pop eatery.

Satisfying our stomachs with split-pea soup and grilled cheese sandwiches, we headed south to Penticton at the southern end of Okanagan Lake.  We drove past nearly vacant motels ("Tiki Shores" was one) that line the lakefront and wandered around some of the old vessels that Canadian Pacific used to ferry passengers and cars up and down the lake in the early 20th century and which are now "museum pieces."  Roses still bloomed in the nearby public garden and bikers and skateboarders zoom up and down ramps in a riverside park.

There are 19 wineries on the "Naramata Bench" leading from Penticton to Naramata.  At the visitor information center (and wine shop) on Penticton we ran into Gordon, the general manager of a "nuts and bolts" company in Edmonton whom we had met at the Mount Boucherie Winery in West Kelowna the day before.  At his suggestion, on the way to our hotel we stopped at the La Frenz Winery and tasted some of their wines, then drove a little farther down to road to try those at Popular Grove. Like all of the Okanagan wine we've had thus far, the wines were all good to very good.

About 5:30 we arrived at the Naramata Heritage Inn built in 1908 by John Robinson as his personal home.  Later the building became a hotel, then a girl's school, then a hotel again, then it shut down until restored and re-opened as the present inn.  Robinson is credited with starting the Okanagan fruit industry which still grows apples, pears and peaches.  Today the steep hillsides that tumble down to the lake near Naramata are mostly covered with vineyards and second homes rather than fruit orchards and the apple packing plant in town closed down about three years ago.

After checking in we walked along the shore to the site of the old wharf pier where steamers like the one we had seen turned into a museum in Penticton had once delivered passengers and freight.  Only one other couple was in the adjoining park and the only sound we could hear came from a dog  barking incessantly in a nearby yard.  The lakefront homes looked to be vacant; presumably their owners left their summer places at the end of the season and went back to the big cities of Canada.

The hotel had been busy on Friday and Saturday when it put on Wine Fest dinners, but on Sunday and Monday there were only a few diners other than ourselves.  Only a half-dozen cars were in the hotel's lot so probably only half of the inn's dozen rooms were filled during our stay.

On Monday morning we wandered around the quiet town of Naramata, found a stream with spawning Kokanee salmon, and viewed paintings by local artists at a show in the social hall of a local church.  After lunch we drove north to the end of the road, then hiked a section of the old Kettle Valley Railroad whose tracks have been torn up and the roadbed turned into a long hiking trail.  Unfortunately, big new homes are being built both above and below this section of the KVR and hiking this part of the trail will be less scenic in the future.

Daddy Took The T-Bird Away

The great weather we've had since leaving Whistler "went South" (or North, East, or West) on Sunday as clouds filled the Okanagan Valley.  We had thought about taking an hour and hour ride on the Kettle Valley Railway excursion train, but the lack of sun dissuaded us for doing so.  Instead, we stopped at Nixdorf Classic Cars in Summerland on our way from Kelowna to Naramata and checked out their collection of classic cars made by U.S. automakers and their Canadian counterparts.  (A Ford made in Canadas was a "Meteor", a Mercury was a "Monarch").

Jim, who manages the places for his cousin Garney, owner of 100 restored 1930's-2000 cars, took us on a tour.  They completely strip the vehicles, remove all of the paint, cut out rusted body parts and weld in new pieces, straighten frames, get engines rebuilt and upholstery re-done, and end up with "like off the showroom floor" vintage autos.

They display 50 of the cars at a time, rotating some out, and others in, to what's on view to the public at any time.  Carney has never been able to part with a single one of the autos he's acquired over the last fifty-odd years, but now they are running out of space to store them so he may be compelled to sell of part of his fleet.

They also restore cars for private owners.  But you need to put down "serious cash."  When I asked Jim if I'd need to pony up $20,000-$50,000 (who cares if that's U.S. or Canadian dollars?), he said more like fifty grand or more.  It takes them on average 3-4 months of work, sometimes 6 months or more, to do a complete "make over" on a car.

Don't have "the readies" to buy and restore a classic car?  Not to worry.  They'll rent you a jazzy convertible with driver to take you on an Okanagan wine tasting excursion (minimum $225 Canadian for a two-hour jaunt; more if you want to drink away the day).

Daddy took your T-bird away, little girl?  No problem.  They've got both  the original and the newer versions of this popular Ford roadster for you to drool over.

Down On The Farm, Up In The Vineyards

After breakfast we spent an hour or so wandering around Kelowna's large Saturday farmer's market where we met "Diva", an 18-20 pound hen turkey whose ability to pump out eggs guarantees her a life expectancy much longer than her feathered friends who will be "entertaining" British Columbia residents when they celebrate their "Thanksgiving" holiday later this month.  The market's vendors offered the usual assortment of fresh produce, jams, honey, flowers, and various arts and crafts for sale as we find in the similar markets at home.  We lunched on some Aussie Meat Pies that Ryan, whose accent clearly gave him away as an immigrant from "Down Under", said are the "real deal" pastry served up in his home country.

At a park across the street we caught the tail end of the Kokanee salmon spawning in a creek that runs into Okanagan Lake.  Pam, one of the park's interpreters, told us that the fall run is down from historic highs of about 300,000 to only about 40,000.  Unlike their Sockeye cousins, these fish never make it to to ocean; they live out their lives in the lake before returning to the stream in which they were born to create a new generation of Kokanee (which are also found in lake Tahoe) before heading off to Fish Heaven.

In the afternoon we drove across the lake and up into the vineyards on the west side to do some wine tasting.  Our first stop was at Quail's Gate where we tasted some fine wines, then took a very informative tour of the vineyard and the winery which ended with yet another tasting session with our guide, Cara who had done everything in the Okanagan wine industry from driving forklift trucks, to pruning vines, picking grapes, giving tours, and working in this winery's restaurant.

At Mount Boucherie we were poured something like a dozen wines.  The guy working the tasting room (usually called a "Wine Shop" in this area) was a real character who said things like "This wine is good with spicy Asian food, so Thai one on tonight!"

We drove back to our hotel at the end of the afternoon and then had a long break before returning to Quail's Gate for a four-course dinner served with four different wines.  The food and service were top-notch and we could see lights twinkling on the opposite shore of the lake through the open windows of the winery's restaurant.

Living It Up in Kelowna

There's good news and bad news about our Kelowna Hotel.  The bad news:  It needs some TLC --- paint and carpeting if not a total "make over."  The good news:  It is right across the street from the riverfront promenade which stretches for many blocks north along the lake shore and was a great place for a post-breakfast stroll on Friday morning.  It's also a short walk to street lined with stores, restaurants, bars, coffee houses and bakeries (including one where we ate), and a short drive to the restaurants and wineries in and near town. The "Prestige" also gets the Most Wastepaper Basket in A Hotel award --- we have three in our room.

Friday's plan to visit local museums was thwarted:  Three out of four in the immediate downtown area were closed.  The old packing house where the B.C. Wine Museum and Orchard Industry Museum are located is undergoing renovation and won't re-open until November.  A new exhibit was being set up at the Kelowna Art Gallery, so we couldn't visit it either (although Patricia, who was working at the front desk, answered an important question for us:  Where does the water from Okanagan Lake go?  Answer:  It ends up flowing south into the Columbia River in Washington State, and then out to sea near Astoria, Oregon).

The Okanagan Heritage Museum is small, but has some interesting displays.  A Hallicrafters SX-140 shortwave radio receiver, a copy of the the 1951 Amateur Radio Handbook, and telegraph keys that you could use to practice sending messages in Morse Code reminded me of hours spent listening to Ham Radio and international radio broadcasts from around the world when I was a kid.   "I Think It's Downstairs Somewhere" was a recreation of basement storage areas that become the final resting places for things like LP music albums, old toys, golf clubs long since unused, and various items of old clothes.  At the museum we also learned about Ogopogo, Okanagan's version of the Loch Ness Monster.

After a quick stop at our hotel we drove about 15 minutes south to the Father Pandosy Mission on the outskirts of Kelowna. Some of the buildings (mostly built of logs) are original to the site, while others like the Joseph Christien House were moved there from other locations.  Rusty farm equipment like hay rakes and and old wheel tractor reminded me of ancient equipment on the farms where I spent summers as a kid.  The blacksmith shop evoked memories charcoal burning red-hot in the forge of the place in Genesee, Idaho, where the farmers took their broken combine parts to be mended.  The cream separator in the Brothers' House at the Mission was very similar to one I used to split fresh cow's milk into cream and whole milk.  And the wooden desks with iron scrollwork bases in the school room on the second floor of the Christien house were just like those that I sat in when attending grade school in Seattle.

We continued our B.C. Wine Country culinary adventures that evening at the Eldorado Hotel with a three-course meal.  Unlike our clueless waiter at the place where we dined the night before, our server apologized for the fact that the staff was still working out the kinks serving both the Wine Fest meals and the regular menu and brought us extra wine to make up for it. 

Taking a break to powder my nose between the main course and dessert, I overheard a couple of Thirty-Something guys in the men's room say that the hotel's bar was a popular hang-out for "Cougars."  This seemed highly unlikely to me since the 150+ decibel level of music blasting away in the bar certainly would have driven even the most brazen puma out the door and back into the woods.  When we returned to our hotel it's "Avenue" bar was jammed full of "kids" half of age, too.