Waking up in Prince Rupert, with hazy plans for the overcast day ahead: a vague idea to take Shelley’s advice for a trip to the museum, possibly a hike, and a recce of local watering holes.
A beginning, a middle, and an end.
Yet after my porridge breakfast, I end up getting an impromptu buzzcut, being shouted at by a local, down by Bill Murray Drive.
None of this was planned, none of this was in the script … and yet, I go with it.
Along the waterfront, past the old railway station – boarded up, sidelined; a neglected film set, waiting for a killer scene.
And weird scenes at the deserted ferry terminal, like the start of a Tarantino movie.
A movie-star couple, dishevelled, dressed in sunglasses and bright colours, who may or may not work there – and who may actually be wanted somewhere – giving me advice on how to escape town.
I take it on board with a nod and a hesitant smile, before seeking more guidance at the Museum of Northern BC.
In the longhouse building, modern displays of centuries-old artefacts preserved; totem poles, animals, artwork, embroidery, baskets, trinkets.
It’s sustainable living from before sustainable living was invented.
In cabinets, fantastical wooden carvings of mythical creatures – with teeth.
I take it as read that all is full of love.
The exit through the gift shop is an exit through an expensive gallery, where I leave my hopes and fears, and a forwarding address.
Ducking incoming showers, I find myself across town at the Cow Bay café – a bovine bistro serving me up warm samosas and mugs of hot chocolate, which soon becomes a poorly organised mess … which they then sell back to me as sex in a pan.
Yeah they tell it like it is around here … while us tourists lap it up, with whipped cream on top.
Surreal scenes which people pay good money for.
Escaping out onto the Rushbrook Trail, views of anchored container ships in the bay, lined up waiting for a drop-off slot.
Meandering around the coastal path and eventually dropping into another town – Seal Cove.
I’m on the rocks, in the neighbourhood, by experimental flats, empty.
Drinking a pint of locally-brewed stout in a large neon-lit vacant bar, staring into space … thinking, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now.
Even with 80s hair metal blasting from the stereo.
On the return journey, rainbow-coloured benches, a painted anchor, modern-thinking.
Arriving back into Cow Bay, to the brewery tap, where we’re queuing out the door of a large barn for a freshly-brewed beer.
When I eventually make landfall at the bar, I set up camp there with an artist from Haida Gwaii – who until earlier this week was exhibiting at the Museum of Northern BC. Shame I missed that. Recommends a trip to the islands.
Next in line at the bar, a Mr Spyker – a descendant of the founder of the Dutch supercar maker – who owns a boat on Vancouver Island, and offers it up for me to stay in.
I say thanks and perhaps, as we enjoy our beers at the busy bar, before I call time and abandon ship.
Strolling around a northern BC coastal town at dusk; sundowners.
Right behind me, everywhere is way too busy … Dolly’s Fish Market, the Breakers.
Of course I end up in the pub … where there’s no chance of getting a seat outside, so I’m forced to sit in a corner, facing the wall and a picture of some dogs.
I don’t quite know what I’ve done to deserve this.
However a plate of hot food eventually turns up from behind that wall, along with a mediocre lager.
Once I’ve eaten, I’m walking past Smiles, picking up Homework.
Through the sunken garden with the upside-down shopping trolley, where I’m falling about under the tunnel, emerging by the front end of a planted Volkswagen Beetle.
Feel like I’m in a Lynchian dreamlike sequence.
I wake up in the kitchen of the Pioneer Inn, on level ground with Tyler and Venetia from Montreal, and Diego from Ontario – all here to plant trees and eat fish.
I’m gifted some fresh asparagus and a mug of chegga, which sends me well on my way to sleep … as if I needed any persuasion.
An Outside World 