Arrowsmith

       One of the exciting things about going down untraveled roads and byways, places you've never ventured into before is what surprises might await you. A constant surprise to me is that there are far more houses tucked away in quiet seclusion than I would have imagined.
      I wonder how is it that so many people can manage,  financially, to live so far from the larger cities, or even from the smaller towns? Do none of them work in either the city or the town they’re near, or do they work at home? Of course a lot of home businesses have sprung up because of the wide reach of the Internet, it being so easily accessable. What? Farming?  Sure, makes sense, but next to so many houses?  A number of them do have fairly large plots of land, but looking closely, very few appear to be into the tilling of the soil. And then again, are all these people retired? This thought is brought on by the size of some of those dwellings,  and no children's climbing gym on a knoll, or an old tire swinging from a sagging limb. There are certainly a great many people to whom a long commute is preferable to living in the city, or a suburb. Could be true of our country cousins as well. (Hmm, I could handle that. Yep, could!). Well, I’ll just keep wondering I guess, being there are seldom answers available for nosey folk like myself who are just passing through. Anyway, that’s me, I like to think about things like that.  (Wow! A Forrest Gump moment there!). 
     So, here we are, traveling up a byway hill which promises to lead us to a golf course we've been wondering about for years, and there’s a dead end up ahead. There’s a what? No way!  
     Hang on to that for a moment, if you don’t mind, I must digress to tell a little story. 
     An Afrikaans phrase equivalent to our “Dead End” or “No Exit” sign placed before a cul de sac in North America, is “Strat Loops Dood.” It's literal translation is Street Walks Dead. When I lived in South Africa I could never keep a smile off my face whenever I turned into a street that warned me it was a "Dead street walking!" 
      Fortunately our road, though it does appear to come to an end does not walk dead, for a well marked sign indicates we now turn left. So left it is, and a moment later arrive at our long awaited destination, Arrowsmith Golf Course and Country Club!   
     Boy! Has it, or has it not, gone out of it's way to welcome us with a view to die for.

     I will expound my own narrative on the beauty of this mountain top golf course soon enough, but in the meantime here's a short descriptive passage from the brochure supplied by the course itself -  in which all information required is freely available. 

"The scenic beauty, manicured fairways, majestic trees, along with the awe-inspiring backdrop of famous Mt. Arrowsmith, combine to make a round of golf at Arrowsmith a memorable experience."
                                                                                                 Mt. Arrowsmith – A. Dorst

     Now one would think that nothing more need be said, and I concur, but I must add a few extras. How could one go to this beautiful mountain top golf course and say only that it is a lovely place, most enjoyable. Enjoyable? Keep that delicious lurch you felt all to yourself and act ho-hum calm as you spoke of where you'd been? I guess you could, but it would be most unkind to the keepers of these greens, and I do mean greens. The grass, a luxurious velvet carpet, cosies around the many stately trees, several sand bunkers, three most artfully set out lakes, and a paved continuous cart path which winds around and through the entire course. I could imagine what effect such a vista would have on a true blue golfer. The green of the course seen against the snow covered mountains across from it would surely gladden their hearts, and have them longing to smack that little white ball many a thousand yards down the fairway.
     Oh, and a bit of statistic. Get this: "several miles of underground drainage pipe and scores of catch basins were installed to allow the course to drain quickly following heavy rains...........and have given Arrowsmith the reputation of being a true "year round" golf course."
     What about that, no soggy grass and water filled bunkers? Isn't that when a grateful Aussie might say, "Good on ya, Sheila!"

     Okay, now on to lunch,  the true test for Janet and me. We've had quite a number of golf course lounge lunches, and have found many lacking. (We like a view at lunch time when we're out, if possible). So the litmus test was coming up.   
      Now, remember this is early March, above the 49th parallel, and the sun beaming down on us is warm, friendly, and bright, belying the fact that it is winter still, and not a late spring day sneaking in. We chose a table on the edge of the patio - above a long brick planter which was resting now, but would, no doubt, soon be bursting with masses of  spring flowers - and basked in the view, the sun and the soft fresh mountain air, while waiting for our server.
     A very busy waitress brought over menus, and asked if we cared for a drink. Both of us decided to stick to water, and delved into the menu.
     Surprise, surprise! Some very interesting items for a lunch menu. Hmm, this was a change from the usual, and was going to make deciding difficult. I kept glancing at dishes being brought to various tables; wooed by some of the items being served to other diners; wondering, “What’s that interesting dish  being placed on the table over there, and the one over there, see. My, that looks good, eh?”
     Finally, a decision. I beckoned the waitress as she tried to escape back into the lounge, laden with well cleaned plates. Signing she'd be right back, she vanished through the door, but true to her nod returned a moment later.
     Janet ordered Calamari, and I decided on a Vegetarian wrap. Janet is very partial to calamari, and knows she takes the chance she’ll be disappointed, but hope springing eternal etc., and with the excellence (believed) in foods being served to others she  trusted that her favorite would be presented ala perfect. Me, I really enjoy a  non-meat or fish lunch, preferring instead to stick to salads. Now, I can imagine you grimacing a bit and wondering why I would have a salad (a Wrap of all things!) type dish in this golf course lounge when I was obviously drooling over far more tempting items. Well, think of a better way to judge the food served. Salad dishes are usually blah lettuce, blah cucumber and blah tomato with maybe a few carrot scrapings sprinkled over the top, and lest I forget (I shudder), dried out gratings of beetroot. True? Yes?  Well, I decided to bravely submit to the test.
    What, ho! A chock-a-block goodies filled Wrap came to the table for me, and for Janet the Calamari she had  ordered, which looked delicious, and promised to be as she had hoped. The pleased expression on her face when she bit into a section said it all, it was exactly to her liking, and was savored to the last crumb or crisp tentacle. My wrap came with French Fries, which I usually exchange for a salad, but that would be a bit of a “coals to Newcastle” kind of a gesture because of the nature of my dish. Wondering whether the fries would pass muster I decided to have them and we’d share. What can I say? Yep, they were more than we expected. Hand cut, unpeeled, and cooked in what was obviously fresh vegetable oil, they were golden, bite perfect and  hot.
     No dessert, thank you. Neither of us are into noon time pastries and sweet things, but I did have an above average coffee to round off  a most surprising and delicious lunch. Congratulations to the chef and the management of Micky J’s. Yes, that’s the restaurant's moniker, and well worth a stop for a tasty bite if you’re traveling up or down Vancouver  island. Easy to get to from the inland highway or the ocean highway. 
     After letting our satisfying lunches settle down we had a stroll around the grounds, finding wherever our eyes roamed there was beauty. Mountains, topped with snow, and lush green beneath our feet; views along the course and through the trees that seemed to change each time we glanced along a new one. And there was the bear, carved out of the stump of an old cedar, that stands a few feet along the cart path which meanders like the yellow brick road through and around the course. A visit that had taken years to take place at no point disappointed. The journey home was traveled  in comfortable silence, our tummies happy, and our thoughts well occupied, putting  moments of the day into the scrap book of memories.

    I would like  to finish this post with a most beautiful piece of music. A part of the Adagietto  from Mahler’s 5th Symphony. I was a young man when I first heard it, and have loved it ever since. Many moments of my life are wrapped in it and stored in my mind. It comforts me to hear it’s melodic strains when lovely things take place, and troubled times invade. I thought a few minutes with this gentle but understanding piece would make a lovely end to a lovely day.

Set The Alarm For Music (cont)

   Please, dear reader, I ask in all humility that you read the previous post first before perusing further - otherwise you may wonder what in (that fiery place) is going on.

     Wow! I thought the roof of the house had blown off! 
      I'm not referring at this moment to the climax in the Wagner piece, it's those yodelling Valkyries! Boy-o-boy-yo, they're sure out in full force this a.m. Gad zooks, but how the wind doth blow, the surf doth foam, and the winds doth play "shake-em-up" with the trees! Yet me begins to think that along with their flying beasts those weight challenged ladies must be tiring. What prompts me to come to this assumption? Well, 'cause the howling and screeching inside the windy gusts swirling madly around the house doth appear to lessen, which gives credence to my assumption, that they're finally considering coming in for a landing.
     "Ye gads, look at that, it also doth snow! Verily and forsooth! Ah, but not for long I warrant!"
     Thank you, Mother, for yesterday!
      Going back now to the Mahler morning -  for I have digressed. . . "Excuse me, what did you just say? I have what?"  "Rhubarb, rhubarb, rhubarb." "Well, that's a bit unkind. . . but, ahem, there is a grain of truth in your charge, so I forgive you. Kiss, kiss." . . .Ahem, now were were we? Oh yes. . . Janet and I decided we needed to get out for the day, being too long cooped up, making only little visits here and there, you know, doctors, optometrists, hospitals, etc., fun stuff!! Heavens! The way today turned out we waited almost too long!
     What a glorious one we chose! The "Where are we going to go on this special day?" question (particularly special because of the Mahler), had been tentatively decided the evening before, and the morning's perfection capped it for us.  Mt. Arrowsmith Golf Course and Country Club!
     "You're a golfer?" I hear you exclaim. "I had no idea, not a clue. You are a sly one!" Well, keep that thought.  
       Listen, the closest I've come to being involved in any way with golf was when I was ball bonked on the head by a wide swing from an obviously lousy player a few years back, just as I was about to climb into my car parked near a golf course down island. True, and again this week when my doctor told me - I had gone to have a mighty painful elbow seen to - that I was suffering from "Golfer's Elbow." I roared with laughter, as did he, being cognizant of how ridiculous that was. And here's me thinking I had "Tennis Elbow!" Which was equally hilarious since I have never played either of those sports! It's nice to be able roar with laughter about things like that, especially when you have a feeling that you may have to have your arm - or maybe they could just take the elbow - removed because there is no way it can be saved.
        Anywhichway, though it is true that the words golf, golfer, or golf course could have been in our thoughts when we were deciding where to have our little outing, Janet came up with the perfect destination.
        It was a most appropriate link (no pun intended), because, because, because of the many, many times over the years we had driven by it on our countless up and down the island trips on highway 19A. We had vowed repeatedly that one day we would follow the arrows pointing off the highway to where Mt. Arrowsmith Golf Course and Country Club stood, and pay it a visit. Though neither of us are golfers we wanted to make the visit a satisfying resolution to a long standing desire, and also, being practical, a hope that they would serve up a tasty and worthwhile lunch. (We had  known, during those long years, that they had a dining lounge. . . it said so on the directional sign at the side of the highway! Gee! So. . .).

Set The Alarm For Music

 
  Have you ever woken up in the morning to a day that could be classed as Symphonic? Well, have you? You know, clouds like soft drum rolls waiting for crescendos that will surely come, the sea gently undulating as to a melancholy tune from the vibrating strings of violins, and the sky seeming on the verge of filling it's great dome with exquisite melody, a melody terribly sad yet so immensely beautiful that you could easily break down and weep were it not so filled with joyful promise.
     I hope so, because I have. Yesterday morning it was as though I had woken to a Mahler Symphony, conducted by Mother Nature herself. When  I threw back the curtains to let in the day I could well have believed I had suddenly been transported from my front room into the vast auditorium of Carnegie Hall. I stood looking out across the strait, absorbed by the glorious panorama before me and the heartbreaking yet joy filled music sweeping through me.   
     
         

   But this morning when I threw back the curtains it appeared as though the entire program was being dedicated to Richard Wagner! You know, the "Ride of the Valkyrie" and so forth. Don't get me wrong, I am a fan of the man. I could not imagine going through life having never heard the - may I say it - caressing, seductive, accelerating, orgasmic climax of the magnificently beautiful  "Love-Death" music accompanying Isolde's famed tragic final aria. If the greatness of this trail blazing arrogant, egotistical musical genius is unknown to you, then turn your ear to the video that follows. Go also to YouTube and check out the Wagner offerings. You may not like everything, not to worry, many of his admirers feel the same way, and if the vocalizing is not to your liking, just listen to the orchestral performances. The following clip - about 8 minutes of music - should give you a very strong hint as to why Wagner is more than - falsely believed - ear splitting vocals. Bypass it if you wish, it's your loss, and that's sad. (A suggestion) When the conductor lowers his baton you might like to stop the video, it's thundering applause from then on. Mightily deserved!

Oh glorious day!

Okay, maybe a bit over the top, but there is a lot of truth in it. On account of the cornflower beauty in the blueness of the sky: the fluff of the cotton ball clouds snuggling into the nooks and valleys of snow laden mountains; the fjords along the coast; the answering stillness in the breezes resting in the trees; the radiant sunshine the. . . . oh, oh, you’re probably remembering a penchant that I may have (you think?) that at this very moment troubles your mind with the question, “Oh, my god, is he out to do it again? Is laying out a mess of superlatives and assorted sticky, candy coated words which will once more cause a dull unseeing haze to blind my mind?” Moi, do such a thing? Heaven forbid! Okay, let me explain.
I’m sitting here at the computer, fingers idly, no firmly, typing out this post, but my gaze is constantly distracted from the moving letters in front of me. Why? Because my eyes keep glancing towards the window on my left. You see, the sights of nature as described in the opening sentence of this post lure my sight, and my mind away. Oh look, at this very moment I see the breeze beginning to stir the branches of nearby firs, giddying them to release their seed stuffed cones. (Great! And upon the grass will they lie, waiting to clog up the cutters of my hand pushed lawnmower, thereby forcing me to bend down every few seconds to  dig the damned things out!) No, no, I destroy the moment! Forgive me! I have shamed myself.
Mia culpa, scusa! But fret not, I shall go on, for I wish to have you with me to share the beauty of the beautiful Comox Valley. A beauty that gives unstinting pleasure season in and season out, every day of the year.
The Olympics, a wonderful success, are now over. The tens of thousands of visitors and athletes who attended the games have left the province and returned to their respective homes, there to spread word of the many wonders to be explored on this abounding island. Yes, we have had a wet winter, a very wet winter, which was not good for the slopes of Vancouver and Whistler, but everything worked out fine in the end. For us here though, Mt. Washington, just over a half an hour away from our home, had, amazingly, the deepest snow cover of any winter resort in the world! Just under 500 centimeters. Crazy, eh! Dozens of athletes from many countries practiced on the slopes above us, as did many Canadian competitors. Right now athletes who will be competing in the Paralympics are up there, busy preparing themselves for the March 12th opening of the Games. It is amazing that only a short distance away, and up a majestic mountain, a massive snow base has built up and is being utilized - even as I write - by snowboarders, skiers etc., while down here we enjoy the calm smooth sea, the mountains across the Strait framing the distant views, and welcoming flowers, Spring’s heralds, popping up all over the place, Even the lawn, growing thick at the edge of the sea, prepares itself for it's first haircut of the year.  And it’s only March 3rd! Wonderful!