By Grant Lawrence
Publish yr note: First released September 1st, 2010
From Captain George Vancouver to Muriel Curve of Time Blanchet to Jim Spilsbury’s Coast Spilsbury, viewers to Desolation Sound have left at the back of a path of books endowing the realm with a romantic air of mystery that is helping to make it British Columbia’s most well-liked marine park. during this hilarious and fascinating publication, CBC character furnish Lawrence provides an entire new bankruptcy to the saga of this storied piece of BC coastline.
Young Grant’s father received a section of land subsequent to the park within the Nineteen Seventies, simply in time to come across the gun-toting cougar woman, left-over hippies, outlaw bikers and an collection of alternative characters. In these years Desolation Sound used to be a spot the place going to the neighbours’ potluck intended being met with hugs from portly bare hippies and the place Russell the Hermit’s university of existence (boating, fishing, and rock ’n’ roll) used to be Grant’s own Enlightenment - a power that will take him clear of the coast to a lifetime of tune and journalism and finally again again.
With rock band pals and some circumstances of beer in tow, an older, cooler furnish returns to regale us with stories of "going bush", the tempting hindrance of discovering an unguarded grow-op, and his awkward fight to persuade a number of vacationing kayakers that he’s a official CBC radio host whereas carrying a wild beard and physique wounds and gesticulating with a machete. With lots of laugh-out-loud humour and encouraged reverence, Adventures in Solitude delights us with the original historical past of a spot and the expansion of a tender guy amidst the magic of Desolation Sound.
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Extra info for Adventures in Solitude: What Not to Wear to a Nude Potluck and Other Stories from Desolation Sound
Mom’s love of the sun was taken into account with three different levels of sprawling decks, all drenched in windswept sunshine — safety railings and small children be damned. Inside, the cabin offered the soothing aroma of fresh cedar. Towering log poles and heavy crossbeams held up the high, peaked ceiling and cedar-shake roof. The living room had a few pieces of familiar, random pieces of furniture from our house in the city — the rest were purchases from the recently opened IKEA outlet in Vancouver — all of it surrounding a wood-burning, 59 cast-iron fireplace.
Even our dog Aggie was trim and refined compared to the ragamuffin local mutts that came sniffing at the butt of the canine from the city. Luckily, Dad had been coming and going for the last couple of years and fit right in with the locals in his dirty jeans, well-worn white V-neck T-shirt and crumpled Winnipeg Blue Bombers baseball cap. While Dad chatted with various characters on the dock, the rest of us delicately climbed into our new boat: a twelve-foot aluminum skiff with three bench seats and an eighteen-horsepower pull-start outboard motor, which was steered with a tiller from the back of the boat.
We had arrived. Mom and I learned quickly that banana peel–slippery seaweed and ginzu-sharp barnacles are a cruel combination on Desolation’s shores. Soaking wet, numbingly cold and still puke-encrusted, my first step on land slipped out from underneath me, slamming me headfirst onto the rocks, my glasses clattering off my face. I was now bruised, bleeding, blind and crying. We gingerly hauled our camping gear up above the tide line onto the moss-covered rocky point, about thirty feet before the forest wall.
Adventures in Solitude: What Not to Wear to a Nude Potluck and Other Stories from Desolation Sound by Grant Lawrence