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the ocean-view cure

Where is she now, you ask, the footloose one? I’m in a big bed with four huge pillows in front of a fire stove burning hot. There’s a little kitchen stocked with supplies I brought with me – cheese, wine, nuts, even a little baggie of peanut butter. And outside the window I can see Chesterman Beach on the west coast of Vancouver Island, being pounded by the Pacific Ocean in the driving rain. Could I be cosier? Absolutely not.

Patsy and I came here to Chesterman Beach B and B last year, to a lovely little cabin, but this time I booked “The Lookout” as a solitary treat for myself, a tranquil work space and think place. (And I will certainly be looking out – at the freezing wet wind-swept beach where I will not be walking anytime soon.) I almost cancelled this little jaunt, was feeling so shaky. But I’d prepaid so had to go – luckily. Which involved taking a float plane to Nanaimo, where I met old friend Patsy, then renting a car and driving 3 hours across the island on winding mountain roads.

First I had to get from Bruce’s to the harbour airport, which is complicated on transit at rush hour, so last night I called Black Top Cabs and booked a cab for 9 a.m. This morning I called to reconfirm and change the time to 8.55. At 8.50 I was outside waiting; at 9 I called the company. A cab hadn’t even been dispatched to my address, she said, and she had no idea when one would be. When I hit the roof, she said, ma’am, it’s rush hour.

Lesson: do not EVER get Black Top Cabs in Vancouver.

I ran up to Davie Street, managed eventually to find a cab and got to Harbour Air on time. The 20 minute flight over the water was wonderful, the sun actually shone for a bit, and dear Patsy had taken the ferry from Gabriola Island and was waiting for me, for a quick coffee. She had brought a care package, the nicest I’ve ever received – lemon tea and a lemon and clementines, chocolate truffles, a little pot of honey, other goodies … and a poem, because she is a very fine poet, my friend.

And then I got into the little blue car and drove. It started to pour partway through the trip, of course. What a relief to get here in good time, to be installed in this aerie. I connected to the internet and got into bed.

I am now sipping a Chilean Malbec from a very large wineglass and eating a local Brie with melba toast. In bed. This is called the Chesterman Cure, and it will work, I just know it, I’m feeling better already.




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About Beth

I began keeping a journal at the age of nine. Nearly fifty years later, I started this online journal, sharing reflections, reviews, updates, and the occasional secret.

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