The Road to 65, Mile 187: Northwestward, Day 8: Vancouver, Part 1- Kits Point and Gastown

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June 3, 2015, Vancouver- It’s been about thirty one years since I last crossed the border into Canada.  back then, it was a driver’s license, pop the trunk and howdy-do to get back and forth.  Since 9/11/01, nothing is left to chance.

To be fair, I got in the NEXUS lane by mistake, and was hailed into Customs Hall, while my vehicle was searched.  All officials were polite and determined I was hardly a risk.  I was cautioned, though, to be prepared to offer a list of those with whom I might be visiting, next time I make a border crossing.  That will be useful, as there a few people I would like to visit in BC, later this month- after returning from Alaska.  I will also not go in the NEXUS line.

Driving north, I have encountered a few local traffic quirks.  In Olympia, WA, for example, the turn lane out of the Capitol Campus, to get back on I-5, is the width of a bicycle lane, and not readily visible.  Nonetheless, all the locals are used to it, and there was horn-honking, wailing and gnashing of teeth, when I waited for the left turn signal, whilst occupying what turned out to be the MIDDLE lane.

On BC Hwy. 99, the northward extension of I-5, it is expected that all remain locked in their lanes, and not deviate a hair’s breadth  to the right or left- lest there be horn-honking, wailing and more gnashing of teeth.  Vancouverites tend to honk at each other as often as southern Californians, though not as often as people in Scottsdale, Phoenix or San Juan, Puerto Rico.

I had no problems, though, in getting to the various parking garages that I used, in what turned out to be a nine hour exploration of Canada’s window on the Pacific.  Most of that  time, I was on foot.  Navigating by car is easy.  The Canadian directional signs are small, but well-placed, so as to minimize confusion.  I also very much appreciate the lack of billboards.

My first walk was from South Granville to Kits Point, by way of the pedestrian underpass.

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Flora of Granville Pedestrian Path

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“Where are all the Canadian geese this year?”  Why, they’d be up in Canada, of course.

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One must use this tunnel, to get to Kits Point on foot or by bicycle.   Of course, being South Granville, it’s perfectly safe by day.

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This pleasant little park sets the tone for Kits Point, which is a hipster neighbourhood, not used to tourists.  I had a mild, but satisfying meatball panini at Epicurean Cafe.  Here, I learned that, unlike in the U. S., a patron must bring the ticket up to the counter.  Servers do not act as cashiers in Vancouver, I was told.

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Here, though, is a reach-out to the people of Latin America.

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Canada Centre: This grand building defines downtown Vancouver.

Gastown is a heavily-trod section of downtown; in fact, it is the original European settlement of Vancouver, virtually dating from the arrival of the British.

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This is the Steam Clock, which has been here almost as long as the British.

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This is the Canadian Railway station, on the waterfront.

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The Cenotaph, in Memorial Park, is the beginning of the East End, and the rougher part of town.

I was cautioned, when first making plans for a Vancouver stay, that the East End was not a place in which I would want to spend a night.  After walking the area a bit, I can see why one would draw that conclusion.  Most of the hotels in that section of East Hastings Street look a tad ragged, primarily residential.  I’ve seen similar establishments in Los Angeles, Chicago, London and Paris.  The street was alive, though, with people who don’t exactly have it made.  I did see a lot of animated behaviour and many seemed to know one another quite well.  I kept coming across an older man in a blue pinstriped shirt, walking his dog.  He and I were each offered marijuana, by a top-hatted young man who was pretending to sell men’s suits.  The dog-walker looked thoroughly shocked.  I was non-plussed, and definitely not interested.  I didn’t take any photos, as no one is to be treated as a curiosity.

A gratifying element is the Urban Garden, on the south side of the street.

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My sentiments exactly.  More power to them.

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Back in Gastown, I was reminded of when people said I would drive to Canada, when……

Here is one last scene from the original settlement of Vancouver.

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It somewhat reminds me of Yonge Street, Toronto.

In the next post, Stanley Park, and the west waterfront, will show the natural side of Vancouver.

The Road to 65, Mile 180: Two Gardens, Two Riverwalks- Part 1

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May 27, 2015, Reno- The sodden ground of Texas has been much on my mind, in this strange, beautiful and terrible end of May.  The Red Cross has issued a call for volunteers, both general and specific.  Once again, here I am, far afield from the disaster area, wrestling with a measure of guilt and facing my own challenge.  Such is the cost of marching to one’s own drumbeat.  There will come a time, again, when I will find myself in a disaster area, and will be all-in with the recovery work.  For now, that work falls to others.

So, on I go- being here, in The Biggest Little City in the World, for some people who I have known, seemingly forever, and they for me.  It will take another day or so for my vehicle to be refitted; then I will take my leave.  I hope that, in some way, I will have refitted my friends to address their individual pain-fields, and to be more equipped to cast that pain aside.

Most cities have at least one public garden, where flora of all kinds are celebrated and allowed to flourish.   One of Reno’s is the Wilbur D. May Arboretum and Botanical Garden, named in honour of a local philanthropist and rancher, who was a scion of the May Department Store’s founder. It is part of the larger  Rancho San Rafael Regional Park. Our visit there, yesterday, took place under partly cloudy skies, in comfortable conditions. Here are a few scenes.

The Duck Pond had two intrepid mallards in it.  The often ubiquitous Canadian geese were nowhere to be seen.  It being a strange year, that is somehow not surprising.

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After stopping by the Visitor’s Center, and confirming as to the reason for the dearth of waterfowl, we continued to the Arboretum and Botanical Garden, proper. St. Patrick’s Grove greets the visitor, and extends along the sidewalk.

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The stone shamrock reflects, with its cracks, the experience of  Ireland.

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The Labyrinth Garden is small, and mainly features ground cover, around the intriguing maze-like circle.

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Passing into the Arboretum, we came first to the Kleiner Grove, featuring oaks of the East Coast.

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                                   A small area is set aside, in honour of Wilbur May’s mother.

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                                   The bridge, and adjacent waterfalls, express Mrs. May’s tastes.

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            This waterfall was available for photographing.  The other was the focus of another patron’s deep meditation.

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This abandoned water slide lies just east of the park.

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The Songbird Garden was rather quiet, but then, it was mid-afternoon.

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These fountain stones evoked Carnac, for me.

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Light and shadow have a reassuring effect.

While finishing up our visit, I thought of Blucher Park, Corpus Christi’s downtown nature walk, which feature’s that area’s native plants.  It was lovely, this time of year, in 2012.  I wonder about its condition now, after the tribulations of last weekend.  Corpus saw its record for wettest month broken, this past weekend.  It apparently did not suffer as much as places further north and east, but the pain is there, and the community lost one of its own, in floodwaters near the town of Uvalde, west of San Antonio.

We continued on, this afternoon, to Reno’s Riverwalk and downtown.  More about these, in Part 2.