This summer my wife, Adele, and I traveled to her homeland , Canada (she lived her first three years here).

We spent two weeks in British Columbia, and most of that on majestic Vancouver Island. I had planned to keep a journal during the whole trip, and even purchased a blank book for that purpose. You know the kind -hard cover, blank pages to be filled with words or sketches by the owner. I had high ambitions of writing a definitive account of our time and the places we visited. You know how long that lasted? About two days. There was just too much to see and do, and stopping the events to record impressions just seemed too much of an imposition. Besides, I was on vacation, or holidays as our Canadian friends call it. If I didn't want to write, what's the problem? If I wanted to write, same thing.

The Forgotten Journal

These days I do most of my writing using a computer, as does most of the civilized world. All I packed for our trip in the way of a computing device was my Palm III, a great tool, but a bit too unwieldy for composition. I've become quite used to entering letters with the small pen-like stylus, my letters appearing instantly on the small screen as I write them. But this is no way to write anything longer that simple sentences and basic notations. Mark Twain wouldn't have been able to write his Jumping Frog story, let alone Tom Sawyer with one of these things.

But I digress. No kiddin'. And you thought this thing was going to be entirely about some of the sights and activities from my summer of '98.

The Case of the Missing Passport

After our daughters dropped us off at the airport, I came to the conclusion that we both had over packed. We had the same large pieces of luggage that we hauled all over Great Britain just two summers ago, and it was all coming back to me. Pack light. They always tell you this in the guide books. At least these things have wheels. So here's the picture: Two diminutive (5' 6" and 5' 1") middle-aged grandparents wheeling their oversized luggage through this huge terminal as the male stops occasionally to capture images with his video camera. And I wonder why my wife finds it hard to travel with me.

While standing in line at the check-in, I video (used as a verb, boys and girls) the other people standing in line. When we get to the ticket and baggage check, the attendant asks for identification. While my wife produces hers, I casually produce my driver's license. " This won't do.", I'm told. "Do you have something that states where you were born?" I tell the clerk I had planned to bring my passport, but my wife laughed and said it wouldn't be needed. I argued. She repeated. I vacillated. It stayed at home.

"I'll let you go on the flight, but when you return you'll be asked for it by the Americans and they're getting tough about documentation." And this man wasn't even a Canadian official. That was to happen in Vancouver two hours later, when our flight reached its destination.

At about this time I thought, "Oh, man!", and got that sick feeling at the pit of my stomach that this would haunt me for the entire trip. I hate being right.

The Solution

We called our youngest daughter and asked her to find the passport and minutes before we boarded the plane she did. We then called our eldest daughter and asked her to send it by express to one of our friends , where we would be for a couple of days. She said she would. With that news we boarded our plane, safe in the knowledge that the missing passport dilemma was under control.

Touch Down

The flight was pleasant enough and gave me a chance to write in my journal and do a sketch of the interior of the plane. I'd forgotten how poor my artistic skills were, but I must have been drawing one of those abstract pictures we studied in high school. Yeah, that was it.

When we arrived at Vancouver International Airport, we were both mightily impressed. It is the most strikingly beautiful terminals we have ever seen. It looks like a scene from a futuristic film with its suspended walkways, all metal and glass, magnificent wood carvings done in the native art styles and even boasts a waterfall. With my video camera humming as I filmed, I knew this was going to be a great vacation.

Customs

An escalator descended to the ground floor and ahead was Canadian customs. My heart in my throat, we advance to the counter. I showed my drivers license and smiled nervously. "Do you have any other piece of identification?" I was asked by the twenty-something woman. " I have my Gold Visa card." "You really should have a birth certificate or passport." I was told. I explained that our daughter was shipping it to us. "That's good.", she replied. "We're not that strict, but the American customs officers are." I was glad we arranged for our daughter to send it.

With that we continued through the building, gathered our luggage, picked up our rental car and began our adventure.

I was going to spend the bulk of this piece reviewing impressions of places, people and things, but this is the Internet, and you have more important things to do than to read the ramblings of this verbose guide. What I will do is present a list with a few comments, complete with actual web site links, about the places and sights that most impressed us (or depressed us as in the passport predicament).

Links to Travel

When traveling nowadays, I always check to see if there's information about the our destination on the web. There always is. In some cases the information is concise and in other cases it's fragmented or overblown. It's still better that going somewhere without any knowledge of what to expect.

Our first stop in Vancouver was to have lunch with a friend, Chris, at Bridges, a restaurant overlooking spectacular Vancouver Harbour. Excellent food, and even better view.

After staying at a Best Western motel close to the water, we boarded the immense ferry that took us to Vancouver Island. When I say these ships are large, I'm not exaggerating. There are two separate restaurants on board, a gift shop, a video arcade and several levels of parking for cars.

A Grand Hotel

My wife has always wanted to stay at the prestigious Empress Hotel in the city of her birth,Victoria. And since much of the trip would be spent staying with friends, we felt our budget could afford this one luxury. Our overpriced room was quite small, but the view was spectacular and everything else was first class. What's the deal with soda machines that charges $1.75 a can?

The building rests on the Inner Harbour, just adjacent to the Parliament Buildings. Victoria is the capital city of British Columbia and the government business of the province (state) is conducted here.

Visit, Part I

We spent the next few nights with our dear Victoria friends Nigel and Cathie and toured the city, known for its gardens and is appropriately called "a little bit of Olde England". Whenever in the city, a highlight for me is having an "oyster burger" at the Beacon Drive-in next to Beacon Hill Park.

My missing passport didn't arrive yet, but we would check back until it did.

Visit, Part II

Our next stay was in the small town of Sooke. We visited Rob and Jose (Josephine). They own a century old historic farmhouse that was build by a Lord and Lady from England. It's a working farm with large vegetable gardens and sheep.

Before we traveled further, we checked for the passport in Victoria. It still wasn't there.

Visit, Part III

We then traveled up island, visited two of Adele's aunts and spent time with our close friends Dennis and Mary Ann in Qualicum Beach. It was here we saw a pair of bald eagles. I also had my favorite restaurant meal, grilled fresh oysters.( See a trend here?)

The passport finally arrived in Victoria, about 200 miles away, and we asked Cathie to ship it here.

From One Island to Another

That destination was Alert Bay, nestled on small Cormorant Island. We decided to visit this out-of-the-way location because of the remoteness and its cultural history. There is a native burial ground here with a small forest of totem poles situated on sacred ground. Thinking I was standing outside of the area, I videoed the totems. While doing this a car stopped on the road and a woman shouted that I was trespassing on native land. Where I stood was an area that jutted away from the graves into the street, and I later found out that the natives had fought to have the road moved because it was part of the cemetery. The woman was right. We stay at the Oceanview Cabins, our favorite motel on our trip.

We visited the U'mista Cultural Centre where there's a large array of authentic native artifacts. We also saw the world's tallest totem pole. As we viewed the monument, an eagle landed at the top. This town boast a large bald eagle population. I spent more time and tape filming these symbolic creatures than anything else.

After two days here we drove back to Qualicum Beach and finally got my passport.

We took the ferry to Vancouver and visited more relatives.

When in Canada, many people go fishing. Here's a Java of an old fisherman.

Stocking Up

When we left the next day, we stopped by a large market and bought some items that can't be found in San Diego: Unusual flavoured potato chips (steak, chicken, catsup), Canadian cookies and candy.

As we went through American customs, I mentioned that we had a problem getting the passport, but at least we had it. The customs agent said, "That isn't necessary. Your drivers license will work just fine." My mouth dropped wide open. The passport ordeal didn't need to happen, and, I'm ashamed to admit, Adele was right.